Wind From the North
by Plagued Porcelain
Summary: After the Black Riders killed her unit of Dunedain Rangers guarding the Shire, Coran seeks Aragorn. She believes that the Riders wish to kill the messengers that travel with him and feels it is her duty to aid them in their quest to Imladris. As new information about the war is presented, she vows to help their cause. (OC & 10thwalker after FOTR, m-verse.)
1. The Great East Road

Disclaimer: I own nothing as everything by Tolkien is Tolkien's and everything that was inspired is of the Creator's make.

~O~

A/N: I have been revitalized in making of Lord of the Rings fanfiction, though To Spoil the Sun is still on indefinite hiatus as I work out problems presented. This is my second Lord of the Rings fanfiction and my third actual story, as opposed to the one-shots I have written. I plan to have this piece follow the movies with using some book details. Additional insight into the characters' names, translations, or anything pertaining to the chapter will be found at the end of each chapter. Anything you would like to ask about this piece or any of my other pieces, you may PM me or ask in a comment.

~O~

So without further ado, I present the first chapter of Wind from the North, a Lord of the Rings fanfiction!

~PlaguedPorcelain

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The Great East Road

On top of a lonely hill, the grasses swayed about her and her horse. She was tracking, though she would admit that she was not the best tracker. That had never been her job when she was with a scouting team. She was always back-up, being more skilled in healing or defense instead of the actual tracking.

She could not see very far off in the distance, her mortal eyes being nothing compared to those of an elf. As darkness fell, she only wished that no one had been following her, as she did not cover her tracks well. With a horse, a dog and her own feet, she found it impossible to cover them while still keeping up with her target.

It had been two days since she had passed through Bree with the knowledge that the Black Riders had left the town. But it was not them who she tracked. No, it was the man they were hunting. Aragorn, or Estel to her. It was with a heavy heart that she sought him. As Chieftain of the Dúnedain, he had to receive knowledge of certain activities, which what had happened fell under.

She dared not light a fire on the open plain, or even in the woods, for she knew better than to draw attention to herself. No, she sat her horse down and shivered in the cold as she awaited word from her hound who was currently finding his way back to their camp.

Munching carefully on some stale bread, she watched the pale moon rise cautiously in the sky. Did it know the evil that lurked on the plain? She had seen them, the Black Riders. She could confirm the stories about tall, black-cloaked men astride deranged horses that were darker than night. But it wasn't their appearances that frightened those who had seen them. It was their atmosphere and what could only be described as shrieks. She hoped never to encounter them again, if possible.

She heard a rustling in the grasses just below her camp and drew her sword, peering over the back of her horse, ready to pounce. "Be still, Coran. It is I, Goldor." The sapient hound loped up the hill and found his place in front of her.

Coran sheathed her sword and sat against her horse again. Running a hand through her short hair, she exhaled held breath and murmured, "You gave me a fright." He only cocked his head to the side, letting her continue. "What news?"

"They make to travel over the marshes. To wash away the scent." Goldor put his muzzle on her outstretched leg and moaned in weariness. "The Nine follow. We are only about half a day behind both of them."

Scratching his ear, she asked, "So, should we traverse the distance this night or wait till morn?"

"Even if we do come upon them, how are we to evade the Nine? There is no probable way for us to reach Estel without coming in contact with the enemy."

She thought for a while, watching the clouds cover the stars and moon. How many options did she have? She could face the enemy in open combat, or follow at a safe distance behind them. If she chose to engage them in battle, she would surely be killed. The Nine would be against her and Goldor, for Suldal, her horse, really couldn't fight. If they stayed back, the possibility of Aragorn being killed increased.

What would he do? It was really the only option. What was he thinking about doing after getting through the midges and the marshes? Then it hit her just like the light from the moon shone upon the plains. Weathertop.

Standing along with Suldal, she loaded her pack back on the horse before telling Goldor about her plan. "We must fly swiftly over these plains if we are to make it to Weathertop, where he is surely heading, by sundown three or four days from now."

"Are you sure, Coran?" Goldor asked as she swung up into the saddle of Suldal. "What makes you think he is heading to Weathertop?"

"Instinct." And they were off, racing to the Weathered Hills.

They took the Great East Road, following the gentle slopping upwards of the land. They passed nary the tree, but saw more of shrubs or thorny bushes. The barren land to the left and the right of the road stretched for miles without vegetation, or water for that fact.

It was mid-day the next day when she slowed them to a stop, to let her companions rest. She regretted doing it earlier when Goldor had asked for a break, but she knew better than to stop so close to the Marshes. As they had turned South, away from the Marshes, she then relented and called to stop. With a little irritation, she would add. Goldor was famous for his complaints.

"Coran! Why did we not stop earlier? I am tired and thirsty. There is no water or shade here!"

Subtly, she told him her dilemma with stopping to close to the Marshes and told him that he should be grateful that they stopped at all. Pulling out her water skin and a bowl, she poured the water into the bowl so he could drink. When he had his fill, she tossed him some dried meat and took the bowl away, giving it Suldal for her to drink from. "Little Brother!" she called to him. "Rest here. Do not sleep, though. I'm going scouting. I shall be back. Watch Suldal and the road. You know what to do if there are enemies about."

"Aye, Coran." The dog slumped down next to the hooves of Suldal.

She came and whispered to the horse in Sindarin, the language that the horse knew the best. "_Daro an îdh sí. Avo visto. No i Melain na le." _'Stop here for rest. Do not stray. May the Valar be with you.' Suldal neighed in understanding and allowed her to take one of her daggers from her saddle bag. "I will be back before the sun sets. Little Brother!" she called again to him. "Get off the road."

With that, she turned from their camp and headed up the hill on her left, moving north towards the marshlands. Reaching the top of the hill, she looked back down on her companions, who had quickly found a ditch in which to hide. Turning her attention back to the lands that lay before her, she surveyed the land and skies for enemies abroad.

They were not that far from the Marshes, maybe three or four leagues. They were far closer than she would have liked to be, but she knew that Aragorn would have chosen a path that cut through the marshes, leading them through the thinnest parts. But that was not what worried her. Did the Nazgûl take to the Marshes or to the road? The road was the more probable option. Turning east, she could see the road wind its way towards the weathered hills. Looking for a cloud of dust or even the figures in black themselves, she stared hard and long at the path. Finding nothing, she did a quick glance to their campsite, hoping that her companions were not at the mercy of the Black Riders.

To her relief, they were not. As she wound her way down the north side of the hill, towards the marshes and the small tributaries near them, she pondered whether the enemy would continue to stick to the road, if they indeed did take the road, or if they would cut cross-country. Deep in her gut she felt that they would stay on the road. Making the decision that would cost her miles and hours, she decided that they needed to cut across the land between the marshes and Weathertop to saving them from the inevitability of confronting the Nazgûl.

She reached a small pocket of water that collected water from a stream that came off of the hills. It had rained within the past week and mercifully it was clean, which she had decided after tasting it. She filled her water skin and climbed the next taller hill to get a better look at the road and the marshes. Nothing. Giving a quick glance at the sun, she slid down the hill and climbed up the one she originally came from. She noticed a dust cloud coming from the West and dropped down, crawling up the side of the hill with her dagger drawn. Why hadn't she brought her bow and arrows with her?

As she reached the top the dust cloud turned into a lone rider who slowed as he reached the hill. She had been seen! Or was it Goldor and Suldal? The rider stopped and she could definitely tell that the person astride the horse was not one of the Black Riders. Having the high ground she felt confident in her battle prowess and stood, calling down in Westron to the rider who was investigating the ditch where Suldal and Goldor were. "Hail, rider! What business do you have on the road?"

There was a slight, golden laugh given and he answered, "Same to you, my lady! What business is my business to you? Come down here so I do not feel as threatened! I will toss my weapons aside so I do not threaten you!"

She ran down the hill, calling out to Goldor in Sindarin, "With me, Little Brother." The hound ran up behind her. Studying the rider as he dismounted, she found that he looked familiar.

Neither spoke as he came closer, drawing his easily six-foot frame straight as he tried to gain some dominance over her. She thrust her dagger back into its sheath and asked again, "What business do you have on the Great East Road?"

He smiled moved some hair behind one ear. His appearance, fair and tall, did not give any real clues to his race, though his ears did. They were the pointed ears of an elf. "I carry a message from the Grey Havens to Lord Elrond in Imladris. Now that I have told you my mission, tell me the reason that a woman such as yourself is travelling alone on the Great East Road."

"I am a messenger as well, though my secrets are to be kept better hidden. I –" she was cut off by Goldor, who expertly spoke Westron instead of his natural Sindarin.

"Besides, she is not alone. Goldor Orcsbane travels with her," the proud wolfhound growled defensively. His fur stood slightly up and his ears lay flat.

"A sapient dog." The elf mused. "It is a pleasure, Lord Goldor Orcsbane."

In quick Sindarin, she reprimanded the dog. "You are not to speak in the presence of others, Little Brother." He backed off but remained fairly close to her.

"Do you mind if I travel with you for a while or at least make camp with you?" His dark hair danced wildly for a second as the wind blew powerfully from the South. She had not that problem now.

"Suldal!" she called. The horse came up from out of the ditch and joined her and Goldor. She instructed the horse to judge him. She trusted the instincts of her horse. As the elf gave his hand, he whispered soothingly to the horse, but she paid him no heed as she watched the reactions of Suldal. The horse was calm and nuzzled the elf. He could be trusted, for now. "I will be travelling North East, off the road."

The elf, with that smile forever gracing his face, made the decision quickly to come with her. "My horse is fine cross country. He is Thalion the Surefoot." He mounted his horse. "Now, we know each other's companions, but we still do not know each other. Tell me your name, fair lady, and I shall tell you mine."

Following suit, she swung herself up into the saddle of Suldal. Placing her hand on her chest and bowing slightly, she greeted him politely in the Elf manner. "I am Coran of the Dúnedain, from the village of the rightful king."

"I am Erestor of Imladris." He nudged Thalion forward and waited for her. "I must ask why we are avoiding the road, my lady."

"A deep evil traverses upon it. They are the Nazgûl, the Black Riders out of Minas Morgul." They walked their horses slowly around the hill on which she had climbed. "Little Brother," she called out in Sindarin, "go ahead and scout the land. I do not wish to be ambushed in this land." The wolfhound sped off.

The elf took to speaking in Sindarin. "I know of who you speak of. They follow secret agents who travel to Rivendell. You choose not to take the road in fear of this enemy? What is your purpose for travelling?"

Sighing, she wished not to tell him, though she knew she could trust him. Erestor of Imladris was High Counselor to Lord Elrond. They were allies. "I bring dire news from the Shire to my Chieftain who walks with those agents you spoke of. I ride to Weathertop in search of him." She turned her gaze towards the Marshes. "They make their way through the marshes as of right now."

His constant smile faded. In deep despair, he murmured, "I can see you to Weathertop, though I cannot stay. I have pressing news as well, which needs to be delivered as quickly as possible. I am sorry to have to leave you in danger, but if your Chieftain meets with you as you believe, you should be safe then."

"I understand," she nodded. They travelled without conversation until nightfall where they stopped just East of the Marshes.

Dinner was the same as the night before: stale bread with dried meat. Erestor had nothing to offer in the way of food, but did have some more water. As she grew tired, she lay curled up next to Goldor, who had tracked them wearily and had joined them just after nightfall. They were sung to sleep by the haunting melodies of the Elvish songs that Erestor sung as he kept watch.

As the sun rose so did she. Stretching, she looked around for Thalion and Erestor who were missing. Bolting up, she drew her dagger and looked to Goldor and Suldal for answers. The wolfhound narrowed his eyes. "He drew the enemy away, taking the Great East Road. He kept you safe."

She thanked him under her breath and mounted Suldal after giving Goldor some dried meat. "We still make for Weathertop. Our minds cannot be swayed to help him, for our mission is too dire. He brought his fate upon himself and we thank him, but we cannot help him. Let us depart."

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Additional info:

Coran has no meaning in any of the languages in the Tolkien fandom. Though it does have meaning in Irish. It is an Irish boy's name meaning 'the Crescent Moon'.

Goldor means 'Wolf-Howl' brother in Sindarin.

Suldal means 'Wind Foot' in Sindarin.

Thalion means "Steady One" in Sindarin.

The reason why I have Erestor meeting Coran on the Great East Road is that I wish to give him a bigger role to play in my story than he does in either the movies or the books.

As for the meaning of sapient and sapience in this story it will specifically mean that the animal has a brain capable of logic, wisdom and human speech. There are other animals in the Tolkien fandom that can speak.

As for what Goldor looks like, he looks like an Irish wolfhound. I needed a large enough dog for his part.

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A/N:

Please tell me what you think or any suggestions you have. Also if I had a place of bad grammar, spelling or inaccurate information, please point that out as I would like to fix that.

Thank you for your time and please Review!

~PlaguedPorcelain


	2. At the Summit of Weathertop

Welcome!

The Disclaimer is found at the beginning of the first chapter. But, I would add that there are many instances where I have taken the dialogue from the movies. All dialogue belongs to the people who own and thought of the dialogue for the movies.

A/N: I am glad that many of you have read and are interested in this story. Thank you for your support! If you have questions, suggestions or anything, you can leave a review or PM me. I will answer it. Additional information for each chapter is located at the bottom of the story.

Thank you for your support!

~PlaguedPorcelain

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Chapter 2:

At the Summit of Weathertop

After a day and a half of easy riding, they arrived at Weathertop, their enemies nowhere in sight. Erestor really had lead the Black Riders away from them as she did not hear their piercing shrieks being carried on the wind as they had the night before she met the elf. It was a relief the atmosphere of peace she felt settle over the land, but it was under false pretenses as she knew the Nazgûl were not far away at all. The false little hope that had sprung forth in her mind was quickly defeated as she pulled Suldal to a stop at the bottom of the ruined tower.

"Stay, Horse Mother," she commanded. "Little Brother, you're with me." She led Goldor to the cracked steps and they began their journey upwards, searching the ruins for any enemies. Surely the Black Riders were not able to bring their horses up the steps to the tower. And she had not found any of the black deranged horses as they scouted the circumference of the base. There was nothing except scraggly bushes and grasses and the stone of the tower.

Coming to the first level of the tower she motioned for Goldor to take the left side as she took the right. Drawing her long dagger, she proceeded carefully. Covering the whole right wing, she ended up meeting with Goldor and they walked back to the stairs. There was nothing threatening on that level or any other level. All that was left was broken wood and broken stone. As they finally came to the top they could see for miles all around. It was no wonder why the builders had chosen such a place for a watch tower. It was spectacular.

"Coran!" The explosive bark from Goldor alerted her to look west of the tower. In the distance she saw dark figures. She could see the figures of five people and a pony. And they were coming towards the tower. They would be upon the tower within the hour, depending on how quickly they moved.

"With me, Little Brother," she whispered. She and Goldor sped down the stairs on the South side, trying not to draw attention to themselves. As they reached the bottom she grabbed Suldal's reigns and pulled her into a crevice in the base of the tower in order to hide her from plain view. "Stay, please." The horse neighed in understanding and waited patiently in the crevice. Placing the bowl she had in her pack on the ground and filling it with water, she allowed Goldor and Suldal to drink from it. Placing a bundle of hay that was in her pack and a piece of dried meat, she allowed them to eat.

As they had their fill she replaced the bowl in the saddle bag and motioned for Goldor to come with her. They made their way up the stairs again and hid in a room on the second level to the top, where they could see the figures coming closer. Seemed like she held her breath forever as they came closer and closer. Finally they were upon them. As they made their way around the base, checking just as she had done, they had their weapons drawn.

"Little Brother, can you tell if they are friend or foe?"

The dog just whined in discomfort. Coran ran a hand through her hair in uneasiness as they made their way up the steps. In the same way she had done, they scouted each floor. Hissing in agitation, she drew her long dagger again and motioned for Goldor to move closer to her.

She hoped that they were the ones she sought and not thieves or enemies. She was far outnumbered for any real fight, but she would give one if it was necessary. Closing her eyes, she settled her heart beat as they came to her floor. The sun's position cast shadows upon them, obscuring them from her eyes. They moved in a pack and took the right wing first.

She had picked this floor because it was the only floor where the left and right wings did not meet. She could back herself into a corner and hide if she needed too.

They were coming back. She dropped to the ground and listened to their footfalls. They were not armored. At least not fully. Rising again she caught glimpses of them, small were four of them and tall was the fifth who led them. Still, because of the shadows she could not see their faces.

They came into the room and stopped, staring at Goldor, who could not be missed. He growled and they backed away slowly. Whispering as soft as she could she told Goldor to continue, gradually approaching them.

"Back up slowly. The dog is mad," came the order she was looking for. It was spoken in Westron and without the drawl of a poisoned tongue.

She drew her hood over her head, concealing her identity, with a smile. Standing she moved to the middle of the room, in sight of the leader. "And what bring you to the palace of a mad dog?" Her Westron was more accented than his, but it was based on the area in which she had grown up: far in the North.

With a growl the leader shouted into the dark of the room. "Show yourself! And call off your dog!"

Walking forward she still had her dagger in a defending position. She came out into the open air. "Cease, Little Brother." Goldor stopped growling and sat by her, ready to spring if necessary. Switching back to Westron, she smiled as she heard the little people behind the leader whisper amongst themselves about her using of Sindarin. "I am here, my lord."

"Take off your cloak so I may see who you are." He was so demanding, so impolite. Though, she understood. She had startled them and allowed Goldor to intimidate them.

"As you wish, my lord." She pulled the string of her cloak and allowed it to float to the ground.

"I know your face," he whispered in Sindarin.

She bowed before him and bowed deeply. "My Lord Aragorn."

He rushed to her, grasping her face and placing his forehead upon hers in greeting. She embraced him and laughed as he kissed her cheeks. "Well met, cousin."

"Aye." This greeting drew all of her sadness away. Seeing him alive and well made her heart soar and it was as if nothing could be wrong in the world. But those were fools' dreams. Everything was wrong with the world. That was why she was here. "Did you grow so impolite since our last meeting?"

"Oh! I am sorry." Turning he brought forth each of his companions. "This is Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin, hobbits of the Shire."

They bowed with a few murmured 'milady's.

"Well met, hobbits of the Shire. I am Coran of the Dúnedain of the North, cousin to our Chieftain and King, Lord Aragorn, with whom you travel. And this is Goldor Orcsbane."

Goldor inclined his head in greeting, remembering what she had said about speaking only two days beforehand. With a nudge, she reprimanded him. "You were so quick to speak the other day, Little Brother. But you will not speak before our Lord and King? Foolish of all hounds are you."

Shaking his head, Aragorn said, "There is no need."

"No, I apologize. Welcome, Chieftain." The hobbits about fainted as they heard him speak.

With a cleansing breath, she took Aragorn by the arm and began to lead him to the top of the tower. Calling behind, she said, "Little Brother, watch our backs."

"Aye, Coran!"

Turning to Aragorn, she switched to Sindarin. Dropping her voice low, she murmured. "With a heavy heart, I bring you dark and dire news. I rushed from my post on the borders of the Shire to find you." Looking into his eyes, she was sure he knew. They came to the top and looked down on the countryside. "You know what hunts you?"

His piercing eyes confirmed her words. "The Black Riders, the Nazgûl, entered the Shire about a week ago, searching for something, though I know what not."

She caught the hobbits staring at them, listening intently. One of the hobbits was translating what she was saying. In irritation, she sighed. Her heavily accented Westron came out. "They slaughtered us. Those who were left alive fled to various safe holds or to people who needed to know the information we carried."

With tears in her eyes, she looked at him, searching for some comfort. "How many? How many are dead?" he asked.

"All but three of us. And they pursued us. We tried to stop them, but the power they wield was beyond us." Rolling her sleeve up, she showed him a nasty wound she had received. "I blocked a blow from one of their blades and was sent flying into the ravine on the borders of the battlefront. I connected with a sharp rock. I bandaged it, but I feel as though I did not do enough." She was sobbing now. It was not her arm that hurt her.

He searched her eyes. "Where is Feredir? Where is your husband?"

Throwing herself onto him, she clutched at his shirt, desiring security. "He fell! They killed him first. They…" she choked on her words. "They cut off his head!"

He calmed her, but allowed her to cry. She had probably not grieved as she had focused solely on her mission. It was a coping mechanism. She needed to cry right now. As she finished, he asked, "Do you still have it?"

"Yes, my Lord." She reached around her neck and pulled the necklace off. It was a simple metal chain on which a ring was held. "I took it from his body after the wraiths were gone." She smiled weakly. "I would not lose the Ring of the King."

Barking with caution, Goldor spoke. "It is nearly nightfall. I smell foul things on the air. The enemy is close. Erestor was not able to lead them away as well as we thought, Coran."

"So it seems, Little Brother." She drew her sleeve across her eyes, drying them. "We will be of service if you need it, my Lord."

"I will need it." Turning to the hobbits, he said, "Coran has some battle prowess. She will watch over you while I go. I need to collect some athelas for our wounds. Goldor Orcsbane, will you accompany me?"

"Yes, my lord." The wolfhound bounded up to him.

"We will be back shortly after night fall. Get some rest."

~O~

She sat facing the East side of the road while the hobbits were watching the West. There was a dark cloud that cloaked the entire land, obscuring any sun or moonlight trying to light the night. Aragorn had given the hobbits short swords for protection before going off into the woods.

He had not been gone fairly long before she heard the terrible screeching. Gathering herself, she ran to the hobbits' encampment to see them stamping out a small fire they had used for warmth and food. "Fools," she cried as the fire went out. The shrieking ceased. "To the summit!"

Clumsy feet stumbled up the stairs as she threw them before her, forcing them to run up the stairs. As they reached the top, she saw the riders, clear as day, as they slowed their mounts. "Behind me," she called. "Draw your weapons." She did not pull her dagger from its sheath, but the long, curved elf sword that lay across her back.

Heavy armored foot falls sounded and they seemed to appear out of the very darkness that surrounded them. Calling out in Sindarin, she yelled, "This is Hathelas, the Leaf Blade! The Valar protect me and my companions. You shall not harm them! For the power of the Dark One has no holding here!"

The Black Riders drew their long swords, holding them straight up as they moved slowly forward. She warned again. "You have no power here! This is free land! You may not move upon!" There were five of them, slowly edging forward their swords pointing at them now. They kept backing them into a corner. "I command you to stop in the name of the King!"

The one in the middle pulled up with a short laugh. "The name of the king? What king? Your king is dead?" He motioned for the others to stop. "That line was broken!"

"No, one still lives!"

The Nazgul seemed to think for a second. "You're that ranger's whore. The one we killed in the Shire. I thought you were dead." He reached forth and grabbed her by her hair, holding her above the ground. She swung Hathelas viciously, but to no avail.

Sam lunged, "Get back, you devils!" There were two clinks of the swords crashing together before he was tossed aside. The Black Rider who had ahold of her hair took his armored hand and scratched her cheek as he backhanded her, causing her to fall to the ground, hitting her head on some rubble.

The Riders advanced as Pippin and Merry moved in front of Frodo, protecting him. They were easily pushed out of the way, causing Frodo to back up frightened from the five foes before him. He dropped his sword, tripping backwards.

Gasping she tried to sit up as she came to. The world spun about her and she caught a quick glimpse of Frodo fooling with a pocket. She tried to scream 'run', but no words came. She watched as he held of a peculiar ring and the one Black Rider who had hurt her parted his companions and moved forth, drawing his sword. Frodo backed away as fast as he could, crawling. He was backed into a corner and disappeared as the wraith raised its sword at him.

She managed a weak scream, "Frodo!" Clutching her head, she stood, stumbling to her feet. The leader stabbed at the empty space where Frodo had been, earning a terrible cry from the hobbit. She leapt into action, lunging clumsily at the nearest wraith. She was met with a sword and power that was easily thrice that of hers. Still she fought.

Aragorn came wielding sword and flame, pushing the wraiths away from her and from Frodo, who reappeared howling in pain. Sam moved to Frodo with a yelp. Coran regained her balance and momentum and was able to fight a little longer as her adrenaline heightened. Aragorn caught the cloaks of two wraiths on fire and helped Coran push two into retreat. The leader still screamed as he advanced again filled with ire. Aragorn, with a swift throw, threw the torch into the hood of the leader, causing him to flee as well.

As the battle settled down, Coran dropped to her knees, grasping her head. Sam called out to Aragorn, "Strider!" Frodo still writhed in pain. She moved over to the group huddled about Frodo.

Aragorn picked up the blade by Frodo, cursing as it turned to dust. "He was pierced by a Morgul blade." Picking Frodo up, he said, "This is beyond my skills. He needs Elvish medicine." Throwing him gently over his shoulder he carried him down the ruins. The hobbits followed with Coran bringing up the rear.

"Little Brother! Horse Mother!" she called desperately into the night. They came as their group made for the forest. Her head felt so heavy, the scratch burning as though a small fire was built on her face. "Chieftain," she cried hoarsely. "Make for the Trollshaws!"

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Addition Information:

Feredir means "Hunter" in Sindarin.

Hathelas means "Leaf Blade" in Sindarin.

The Ring of the King she gave him is the Ring of Barahir. And for my purposes, I shall follow the movies, where they have him wearing the ring.

As for Coran being cousin of Aragorn, I felt as though those of the Dunedain don't usually marry and have children with those outside of their villages. That being said I feel as though every one are cousins in the Dunedain. But, Coran is of the family that married into their family by way of Aragorn's unnamed grandmother, wife to Arador, who was Arathorn II's father. So they are first cousins.

If you have any more questions or suggestions, or even if I had bad grammar or spelling or anything, please PM me or review or comment! This way I can make my story better for you who read it.

Thank you for your support!

~PlaguedPorcelain


	3. The Endless Night

Disclaimer: It can be found at the beginning of the first chapter. The additional disclaimer can be found at the beginning of the second chapter.

A/N: So, I feel that you guys kind of like this story. So continuing with my generous Christmas spirit, I am uploading the next couple of chapters during my Christmas break. As soon as school rolls back around, hopefully I will uploading weekly. Because of my severe excitement with this story, I have neglected my other stories. I'm a terrible story mother.

As always, any additional information will be located at the bottom of each chapter. For any special insights, check out my blog. A link can be found on my profile. If you have any questions, shoot me a PM or comment/review. I will answer with the best of my abilities.

Reviews: I always will answer your reviews, as you have spent your valuable time reading and reviewing my story. I feel as it is polite and respectful for me to reply to them. If you leave a comment on my story and you do not have a registered account here, I will answer them at the beginning of each chapter. If you do not wish for me to answer your review, please say so in your review and I will respect your wishes.

**Kaia**: I apologize for my display of Coran's weakness. Hopefully, I've redeemed myself, or at least justified what happened in the last chapter. I hope I have not dissuaded you from reading this. Thank you for your time and energy. You help empower and better me.

**EGilly**: Thank you for your review! I hope you do not get upset with this chapter because Coran is completely uncool. I feel like I'm going to make you more sad, though. There is a lot of talk about her husband. Thanks for everything!

Thank you all who reviewed, favorited, followed and read this story! You're love is warming my heart during this cold time of year. Please continue to support me.

Sorry for such a long beginning and

Thank you,

~PlaguedPorcelain

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Chapter 3:

The Endless Night

Coran drifted in and out of consciousness as they wandered quickly through the Trollshaws. They reached an encampment with stone trolls not long after they had entered the wood. She was glad that they had stopped for she was having difficulty staying alert. As they rested, she sat against one of the trolls' huge legs, having Goldor look over her.

"Coran, you've been touched," Goldor whispered. "You need the medicine as much as Frodo does. Do not ignore this." They didn't matter to her, her needs. She deserved her fate: this scratch, this damaged head. She had been paralyzed, unable to defend those weaker than her, as soon as the first Black Rider stepped on the ruins of Weathertop. It made her sick to her stomach, her cowardice. Why couldn't she be like her husband, brave and foolish enough to rush head first into battle? Or like Aragorn, wise and experienced? Why was she so weak? Then again she blamed it on her gender. She was a woman. Women should be healing, not hurting. Wasn't that what her mother had always said?

Pushing her thoughts aside, she cooed in weariness, "Little Brother. It is not the scratch that afflicts me but the blow my head suffered. I shall be fine by tomorrow." Wrapping her arms about her legs, she shivered in the cold night. It was only a little past the middle of the night, when it was the coldest.

Merry and Pippin stared at her, eyes narrowed as they whispered to themselves. As if making a decision, Merry stood, jabbing an accusing finger in her direction. "I've been thinking. How come you couldn't protect Frodo? I thought you had some sort of experience or something." Pippin nodded enthusiastically in agreement, rising to back Merry up.

Goldor snarled as he moved in front of her. But it was her quick tongue that caught them off guard. "As I seem to remember, you were easily pushed aside just as well." Aragorn shot her a disapproving look as he surveyed Frodo's wound. Shaking her head, she apologized. "I did not mean that. I am sorry."

"We won't accept an apology until we know the answer," Pippin piped up. It was Merry's turn to be disappointed.

"Aragorn lied," she whispered. She clarified when the hobbits shot her dubious looks. "It wasn't an intentional lie; it was out of ignorance. I have very little battle experience. Well, even saying that would be an overstatement."

Sam looked up from his place next to Frodo, posing his question to both of the Dúnedain. "I thought that both men and women are taught swordsmanship in the Dúnedain culture."

Aragorn could only look at Coran. "They do."

"But then why – "

Coran cut Sam off. "Because I am too young. I spent the first fifteen years of my apprenticeship as a healer. Then, I was married off to Feredir soon after my term was over. I was just given my apprenticeship to the unit stationed in the Shire about two months ago. I was supposed to learn the ways of the sword. I," she mumbled. "The battle that took Feredir's life was the first one I had ever been in."

Aragorn stood. He walked a little bit closer to her. Quietly he said, "You lied to me."

"Aye, my lord." How did he know? It was that elvish intuition. He was blessed with that blood and it showed.

"What'd she lie about?" Pippin questioned.

"That battle… I didn't try to fight off the Black Riders. I panicked. I ran and tripped, injuring myself. I am a coward! I do not deserve to be alive. I should have been killed instead of Feredir. But, I left him to be killed, just like I left the rest of the unit." She did not cry, though. Her guilt would not let her feel sorry for herself. With some mustered malice, she managed to whisper, "Only the cowards survived. I find some solace in that fact: that I was not the only one who turned from their side."

Aragorn crouched beside her. "Do not feel so guilty about these incidents. If the Nazgul can take out an entire unit of trained Dúnedain Rangers in a single fight with no casualties, I would consider us lucky for being able to fight off five of them. Valar are watching over us."

"It is not luck, Chieftain. They fear you. They fear the return of the King."

Brushing her comment off, he returned to Frodo and stated, "They have nothing to fear. I turned from that path a long time ago." He spoke again before she opened to her mouth to say something. "Please, do not say anymore on the matter. My decision is final."

"Yes, Chieftain." She gave a long sigh. She felt slightly better after laying her guilty conscious before him. Nothing had plagued her more in her life than those few days of absolute misery, living with her cowardice.

Surprisingly, Goldor had stayed quiet during their whole conversation. Now he nudged his nose against her head. "Do not let your heart hurt anymore, Coran," he said gently. "Master Feredir would not want your heart to be so heavy for him. He was a kind soul and so he remains to be."

"Little Brother, I couldn't save him just like I couldn't save Frodo."

"Feredir would not want you to feel this way," he told her again, more sternly. "Besides, it was his decision not to teach you swordsmanship until after you had learned the survival skills. You should be thankful that he did teach you how to use a bow in your spare time."

"I am grateful to Feredir. For everything he did for me."

Stirring everyone from their thoughts or quiet conversations, Aragorn called Sam over to him and sent him into the surrounding wood to look for more athelas. He had not found any when he was searching for it earlier. Before he left, he added, "Coran, your wounds are terribly infected. I will see to them when I return."

"Help Frodo before me." She was sweating profusely and felt as a fever was coming on. Fighting the need to sleep, she said, "Merry, Pippin, give this water to Frodo." She passed them a skin of water as she watched the receding form of Aragorn disappear.

Coran slumped back against the troll leg as unconsciousness overcame her. She slid to the ground, lost in a daze. "Coran!" Goldor barked. He settled about her, guarding her from any harm.

Frodo writhed and moaned well through the night and into the murky hours before dawn. Aragorn and Sam were not back yet from their gathering. Merry and Pippin were still hunched over Frodo, wiping his sweat and giving him water. Goldor listened intently to the night, trying to catch the sound of their enemies.

When there was none, he put his head down again, against his paws, whining. Coran woke with a start. Sitting up with a moan, she clutched at her head. Feeling along the scratch, she poked and prodded the wound, wincing as she came to a sore spot. Going to her saddle bag, she brought out a small medicine kit, which had been one of the gifts given to her by Feredir when he had courted her. Pulling out a small clay jar, she opened it and spread the gel-like contents on her face. The immediate cooling effect brought about relief. She did the same with her arm and wrapped clean gauze about it.

"Merry, Pippin," she mumbled. "How is he doing?"

"He hasn't gotten any better. His eyes have become more clouded."

Rising, she came to Frodo. Glancing over him once, she put her hands to him. His forehead burned with fever, but he shivered as if it had just snowed. He was pale and unresponsive to any probing. Pulling off the shoulder of his shirt, she exposed the nasty wound. She took her jar and smeared the gel on his wound, hoping it would bring him some relief. She considered sewing it up, but she feared that would only make it worse. She had no knowledge of the advanced medical attention he needed. She was only skilled in wounds that had no evil magic infecting them.

Frodo sighed with another shiver. "Get some rest. I'll keep him warm," she commanded. They built a small fire near his feet. They would risk exposure, for he needed the warmth. She laid next to him, trying to heat him with her body heat. When she felt inadequate, she called Goldor over and they laid on both sides. "Be on guard, Little Brother."

As Sam wandered back into the camp with a handful of the plant, he was content to sleep as well. He felt safe knowing that Goldor would be able to provide ample warning for any danger. He would know far before any of them because of his senses. Sam laid down fairly close to Goldor, keeping warm himself.

Right before sunrise, Goldor bolted up. "Coran!" He growled, expecting her to awake. When she didn't, he assumed that the medicine was to blame for her inability to be alert.

"Leave her be, hound," a melodic voice commanded. A golden haired elf came and picked her up, setting her in his saddle.

Merry, Pippin and Sam were quick to their feet with their swords drawn as quickly as possible. "Put 'er down," Sam commanded, put his fists up, ready to strike.

"I am here to help." The elf man was tall and broad with a toned physique. His clothes were of dark earthy hues, mostly reds, browns, and greens. His long blonde hair had a few braids in it, but remained mostly loose about his shoulders. He had a commanding atmosphere that was littered with sorrow from age.

Goldor snapped viciously at the elf, his teeth almost closing around his arm. "Obey him. Put her down."

She awoke as he picked her up again. As he set her down, she scuttled away as fast as she could without saying a word. She eyed him, trying to protect Frodo like the rest of the hobbits. Aragorn came into the clearing, followed by a dark haired elf maiden. "Take him," Aragorn commanded to her.

The dark haired elf knelt before Frodo. Her Sindarin flowed low and gently. "I am Arwen. I have come to help you. Hear my voice. Come back to the light."

As Arwen spoke to Frodo, Aragorn chewed on the herb, smearing it into Frodo's wound. "Who is she?" Merry asked.

Before Coran could answer, Sam spoke, his eyes wide in amazement. "She's an elf."

"He's fading," Arwen's concern was heard. "He will not last. We must get him to my father." She waited as Aragorn picked Frodo up and put him on the back of her horse. "We've been looking for you for two days. Erestor told us your plight, Coran."

Sam, in a panic, squeaked, "Where are you taking him?"

Completely ignored, Arwen continued to Aragorn. "There are five wraiths behind you. Where the other four are, we do not know."

As Aragorn and Arwen argued in Sindarin, the golden haired elf addressed Sam. "Master Hobbit, she is taking him to Imladris, to her father for healing."

Coming to a conclusion, Arwen whispered, "I do not fear them."

Coran, no longer able to keep silent, warned. "You should, though. They hold terrible power."

Arwen turned quickly towards her, eyes narrowing. Her human blood boiled under her skin at the thought of the woman's lack of confidence in the elf's abilities. "It helps no one to be afraid, when time is the enemy."

Aragorn put a hand on her arm warningly. He whispered. "She is warning against foolishness, not confidence. Heed her warning well, Arwen."

The other elf cleared his throat. "Yes. I will heed it as well, milady. We understand the power of the enemy." Jumping into the saddle of his horse, he spoke again. "I will need a companion if we are to be a diversion."

Aragorn looked to the elf. "You mean to take a hobbit with you? Take Pippin," he decided after the nodded answer. Helping the small hobbit into the saddle, he watched as the two elves gave him their blessings. "Ride hard. Do not look back." And they were off.

Coran was already helping Merry into Suldal's saddle when Aragorn rounded on them. "No. You will not be going."

"It will buy Arwen and Frodo time if it works. Please, let me make amends." She swung up into the saddle behind Merry. "Please, Aragorn! I am not afraid. I have a duty to him, for I may cost him his life."

Sighing in frustration, he handed her some of the athelas. "Take care of yourself. May the Valar protect you."

She took the herb and stowed it in her pack. "Horse mother, ride hard. We mustn't fail."

* * *

Additional Information:

The title comes from a song feature in the Broadway Production of the Lion King of the same name. I find the song cleansing. It is a song that revitalizes Simba and I feel that this chapter revitalizes Coran.

As for the the Arwen and Glorfindel team, I just couldn't decide which one I wanted to have save Frodo. I love them both so much. So going by the old saying, the more the merrier. It also makes for a more interesting twist where Coran/Merry and Glorfindel/Pippin are serving as decoys for Arwen/Frodo.

As you might have gathered, there is some tension between Arwen and Coran. That will be explored later, probably during one of the chapters in which the cast is staying in Rivendell.

A/N:

If you have any questions or comments, ask or tell me. Do not be afraid. I promise that I cannot be mean to you in anyway. I would probably have an ulcer from worrying about the corruption of my soul or something of that nature. I promise I am as harmless as a baby bunny and as sweet natured.

Thank you for your time, thoughts and enjoyment. Please continue to support me.

~PlaguedPorcelain


	4. Along the River

**Disclaimer:** See ch. 1 & 2

**A/N:** So, I took a break for the Christams holiday and because I worked a lot in the days that I was not writing. This chapter is basically two ideas put together. There is a tone change indicating the two ideas. I'm not sure what else to say here.

Comment or review below if you have any questions or see any errors. PLEASE TELL ME!

**REVIEWS:**

Cast and co: Thank you for your support!

As for the rest of you, thank you for your support as well! Your reading, commenting, favoriting and following are all very appreciated and I am forever grateful.

PlaguedPorcelain

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Chapter 4: Along the Shore

With no sign of any of the Nine, Coran and Merry had decided to give Suldal and themselves a rest after a fairly hard ride. They had taken the road, but even still, it was still laborious. Coran did not risk fire in the early afternoon for they had not the time. She reached into her pack and offered Merry some hard bread and dried meat. She had nothing else and it had kept her going for about a week or two. Passing her canister of water to him after realizing that the pony had kept all of their essentials, she watched him drink viciously as if the water was the last he would see for days.

She let Suldal wander, but kept a wary eye on her. As they settled down to relax a bit, Merry looked up from his food. "My lady?"

"Just Coran," she corrected.

"Coran, may I ask you something?" Taking her silence as an answer, he continued. "How badly does it hurt? The loss of your husband?"

She sighed, taking a drink as her eyes skimmed the desolate horizons. The burning sun did nothing except heat the air and the land to irritating temperatures. She had no love for the sun and preferred the moon. Feredir was different. He worshiped the sun. He would dance in its rays and would go exploring like a young lad. And as she thought of him, she answered. "I cannot explain it." There were no more tears. She felt no more sorrow. Yet, there was a deep ache, a hole in her heart where she had treasured him. This hole needed to be filled with good memories and love from his life. But she had not the time to dwell on it, nor the strength.

Merry cast his eyes downward. "I remember what my mother told me when my father died. She said, 'Merry, unable are the loved to die. For love is immortality.'"

With a soft chuckle, she replied, "The wise speak only of what they know. Your mother had a kind heart to tell you such a lie." In uncomfortable silence they sat. He did not wish to offend her anymore but would have liked for her to clarify herself. Gratefully she did. "Memories fade. How much do you remember about your father? Do you remember his laugh, the way he would look at you with love, his eyes, his hair? How much do you remember?"

As he began to think about his father, he understood her point but did not wish to accept it. "Of what I do remember, I remember love which has only grown stronger as the pain has ceased. There is still not a day I do not think about him, but I think what would he say to my witty sayings or how would he react to certain events?"

As if holding higher knowledge, she retorted sadly, "But those are of your own imagination. What he would say and how he would react are of your own make. He may never die in your memories, but they are not your true father."

Merry stood, anger flowed from him as he reprimanded her. "What use is hopeless depression to an already saddened heart?! What would your husband say to this? Tell me: would you listen to the distorted memory of him in your mind if he told you not to dwell on such details or would you dismiss him? Do you remember who he was in any sense? I do not see the man you loved dwelling on such poisoned thoughts."

Her eyes burned with a cool fire as he sat back down, returning to his food. He huffed with disappointment and did not look at her for the rest of their break as they sat in silence. Rising a little later, she caught Suldal and forced her for come over to them. Checking her hooves and her legs, she made the horse prance around a little. Deeming her fit for another ride across of land's road, she helped Merry into the saddle. She checked their rest site for any remaining signs that could leave clues for the enemy to trace.

She found their campsite clean and climbed up onto the horse behind Merry, wrapping a strong arm about him. He tried to be as far away as possible from her, but she pulled him in tighter, whispering, "How we are to ride you will want me holding you."

He grunted a little, either in displeasure or comfort. She told Suldal to run and run she did. As the land moved past them, she paid little heed to it for the time being to the trees and what they hid. Surely they were too far behind the Ringwraiths and the elves to even help them. She had to stop so that Suldal could rest. Elvish horses were stronger and tired less quickly than the horses of the Dúnedain. She did not feel as if the enemy would be turning back, unless they knew she was behind them. Soon they would be upon the river and she would feel safer. She slowed Suldal down a bit as they neared.

The trees dropped out of sight as they came along the banks of the river. She suddenly stopped Suldal as Merry gasped and pointed. The Black Riders were on their side of the river. On the other side, the male elf and Arwen raised their swords in challenge.

Receding into the trees, she hushed Suldal as they watched what transpired.

"Give up the Halflings, she-elf." The dark voice tore through the air, polluting it like a festering wound.

"If you want him, come and claim him," she commanded, drawing her sword as they did.

As they wraiths began to wade across the river, the elves whispered in Sindarin. As they finished, a great rumbling was heard and water crashed along the banks as if a great flood had suddenly surged down from the mountains. The roaring river swallowed the riders in black and carried them down stream. Upon seeing this, she urged Suldal out from the trees.

"Hail, companions!" she called across the stream, raising a hand to them.

"Well met," the male elf replied with a fast smile. He was kind-hearted, just as Erestor had been. She could not say the same for Arwen. Something deep inside urged caution around the she-elf for Arwen looked at her in despise.

Something happened for Arwen jumped from the back of her horse. "Frodo!"

Urging Suldal forward swiftly across the river, they were soon jumping from the horse to gather around the hobbit. "Move," Coran commanded and they did. Pulling back his shirt she looked at the wound. It festered with renewed strength. Digging carefully through her pack she found her medicine bag. She smeared her disinfectant cream and a pain reliever into the wound. She took the athelas that Aragorn had given her for her face and arm and sucked and chewed on it until she could smear it onto his wound. He continued to gasp as the darkness began to overcome him.

Coran looked up at the elves. Making a decision, she whispered, "The shard inside of the wound is already too deep. It does him no good for the wound to be open. I will seal it." The elves had no problems with that as they kept silent and moved the other hobbits away as she prepared a small fire to sterilize her hooked needle.

"Will he feel any pain?" Merry asked, always the brighter of the two.

She looked up at him as she held the needle in the fire. "I will not lie to you, Merry, for I have done so far too much in your presence. He will feel pain when I sew the wound. But, it should comfort you that pain is relative. This small amount of pain may save him from delving deeper into the dark or from a disease such as gangrene. He will live. I promise you that."

Merry muttered under his breath, "He will live only to become a wraith." She did not acknowledge him as he walked away.

Deeming her needle sterilized enough, she inserted the fishing line into the needle. She worked quickly and cleanly: sewing and knotting, sewing and knotting, sewing and knotting. As she finished with the last stitch, she checked her work before she rubbed more disinfectant on the wound. Bandaging the wound with some gauze, she deemed him much better. She felt for fever, but found it had gone down. "Arwen," she called.

The elf appeared next to her and said nothing. Coran motioned for her to come closer. Pointing at the wound, she explained some simple care, she would need to give. "Change his bandage twice a day and each time you change it, apply these three creams. They are a disinfectant, a pain reliever and an athelas cream to slow the poisoning."

"Thank you," she replied as she received the items. "I fear, though, that he may not last the night." Arwen took her aside, away from the other hobbits.

Coran wrapped her arms about herself and thought. "I have no knowledge of wounds from a Morgul blade. I have no idea how to treat them. From looking at his wound as just a simple stab wound, I would say that he would live if proper cleaning care is given. But, I agree, this is beyond me."

"My father will know what to do with him. But still…"

"The quicker you can get him to Rivendell the better." Coran led them back to their makeshift campsite. The blonde elf was already helping lift Frodo into the saddle. He whispered a quick blessing to Arwen and they were off.

Merry and Pippin shivered with the wind the cut across the river basin; sitting very close to the fire she had built to sterilize the needle. Coran called out to the elf. "My lord, are we to make came here?"

The male elf came over to her, standing about a foot taller than her average frame of 5 foot 6 inches. He bowed to her, introducing himself. "My lady, I do not think I have had the pleasure of meeting you yet. I am Glorfindel, Lord of the House of the Golden Flower of Gondolin."

"I am Coran, of the Dúnedain, cousin to Aragorn, son of Arathorn and Isildur's heir." She bowed quickly.

"We must move. We should move closer to the valley, for it is safer there." He told the hobbits the plan and helped Pippin into his saddle.

Coran did not move to pick Merry up, but instead climbed into the saddle herself. She brought her feet under her, and slowly stood on Suldal's back. "Still, Horse-mother," she cooed as she surveyed the land. Looking down the river, she saw no trace of the Nine. Looking back to where they had come from, she saw a small fire on a hill in the distance. It was surely Aragorn and Sam. They were about a day or so ahead of them. Night was falling and she understood they needed to make camp.

Settling herself back down into the saddle, she jumped and put Merry in his place before mounting again. After she was settled, they headed out.

It was after dusk when they stopped to make camp. They all went in search of wood and within the hour had a nice fire going. The hobbits were not pleased again with the bread and dried meat that Glorfindel and Coran had to offer, but ate it anyways. As the hobbits drifted to sleep, Coran announced that she would keep watch.

"No," was the soft reply of Glorfindel. "I shall keep it as I do not tire as easily as mortals."

Coran narrowed her eyes at him. "I hope you do not take offense at this, but I do not trust elf-kind much." She generalized her thoughts of Arwen. It was only the she-elf she had problems with; it was not the entire race of Elves.

Glorfindel stood and kept an eye on the horizon. He never once turned back to look at her. "I sense that. Tell me, what is it that makes us so untrustworthy? I would like to know in order to put your fears at rest."

Coran wrapped her cloak tighter about her body, trying to keep warm. She could not look at him as she said, "From where, do orcs come from?"

His voice darkened as he answered, not pleased with her accusation. "Corrupted elves."

"How very quickly man and elf are corrupted. I trust neither elves nor men. As far as I am concerned, there should be no trust given at all, including oneself. I would not trust myself or you or Aragorn with my life. It is a simple concept."

"That is a harsh way to live."

She sighed with great sadness. "But it is a way that works."

"But," he commented a short time later. "That does not explain the almost hatred you have for Arwen. If you equally do not trust anyone, why do you treat Arwen differently than the hobbits or Aragorn?"

"That is not something I wish to discuss with you at this moment." She refused to talk with him the rest of her watch, even when he checked her wounds. She silently fell asleep after she woke Merry, who went back to sleep after being assured that Glorfindel could keep watch the entire night. When she awoke the next morning at dawn, both of the hobbits were still asleep and Glorfindel was still at his post.

"I am glad you are up. We are being tracked…" Glorfindel made no move or other gesture towards the river, where his gaze was fixed. "It is not Aragorn or Sam or Goldor. It is something fouler."

Coran roused Merry and Pippin quietly and gave them something small to eat as they were placed in their respective saddles. Glorfindel made no move to cover their campsite as the horses would leave tracks anyways. Finally they left, galloping to Imladris which was only a half a day's ride by then.

When they next stopped Pippin asked, "What was it that was tracking us?"

Before Glorfindel could respond, Coran spat, "Gollum."

The elf swiveled around, his eyes narrowing. "Are you sure?"

She nodded and clarified. "He's been following me since Bree."

* * *

Additional Information:

Merry quoted Emily Dickinson: "Unable are the loved to die. For love is immortality." I took from the books the idea that Merry was the smartest of the four hobbits. Merry is my favorite hobbit, so I'm sure I will play him up. BTW: Sam is my favorite character.

And then we get to orcs. The idea that they come from elves was hinted in some of Tolkien's writings and was used in the movies, so it is the one I am using.

Here is a question for you guys: In the movies, Arwen rescues Frodo from the Nazgul and conjours the raging river. After that moment, Frodo gasps and she lays him down. In that moment where she hugs him, she says, "What grace I have, let it pass to him." Did she give him her immortality, or part of it? I am just not sure, which is why I opted for a more reasonable scene in which Coran treats his wounds.

A/N: If you have anything you want to say that relates to this story at all, say it in the reviews! My Challenge: Name your favorite Lord of the Rings Fanfic and the reason why it is your favorite. Also, recommend one for me, though you should know that I tend not to read Legolas romance fics.

HAVE A NICE DAY AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

~PlaguedPorcelain


	5. In Dreams

Disclaimer: It can be found in chapters 1 and 2.

Cast and co: Thanks for continued support!

A/N: I would have had this chapter up earlier, but I did not know what I wanted to do with the dream sequence until I saw Les Mis! I encourage you all to go see it! It was fantastic! I hope you enjoy this chapter and continue to support me as you have done so graciously.

~PlaugedPorcelain

* * *

Chapter 5: In Dreams

They had entered the Hidden Valley late in the evening, just before sundown, though the sun had not been visible for a while as in sunk below the mountain tops. It was a spectacular sight in the diminishing light as the radiant beams of sunlight flickered off the cascading waterfalls. She urged Suldal to closely follow Glorfindel's horse, Asfaloth. They were met by two, dark haired twins who chatted with the hobbits and Glorfindel enthusiastically. She paid no attention to them, preferring to take in the view.

It was when one of them pushed his horse to walk alongside Suldal that she acknowledged them. "Greetings, master elf." She tried to mask her slight ire, but she clearly did not accomplish that for Glorfindel turned and his smile faded from his lips.

"Greetings, milady. I am Elrohir, son of Lord Elrond." He bowed slightly in the saddle as he waited for her to give him her name.

"I am Coran of the Dúnedain." She imitated his actions.

"If I could, Lady Coran, I would like to look at your wounds when we arrive. My father is busy with Frodo's wound, but I am skilled enough to deal with yours."

Her answer startled him a bit. "No. I must wait for my Chieftain. I cannot take pleasures while he is still in the wild. I am sorry, but it is not my way."

He nodded, moving away from her as they crossed the bridge into Rivendell. She helped Merry dismount after she had removed herself. Elrohir offered to take Suldal to their stables and she allowed him to. She stood at the foot of the stairs that lead up into the House of Rivendell, just staring off towards the beginning of the road into the valley. It was there she would wait until Sam, Aragorn and Goldor made their way to the Last Homely House East of the Sea.

~oOo~

The old man, hooded and cloaked, grasped his staff as he stood at the top of the marble steps that led up into the main building in Imladris. Next to him were the Lords Glorfindel, Elladan and Elrohir. The old man's blue eyes glistened faintly with the bursts of light from the morning sun as he looked down upon the valley. "Has she been out there the whole night?"

"Yes, Mithrandir," Elrohir replied with a slight gesture that was far too nonchalant for the usually energetic elf. He had spent the night watching over her, which he found tiresome. She had moved once: to crawl up into a ball and finally sleep in the deep hours of the night. She was now still peacefully sleeping.

"Has there been any sign of them?" It was Glorfindel who was curious.

"No," was the yawned response. "I think I will retire now. Elladan, are you taking up watch?"

"Yes, brother. Go sleep."

Seeing as their early morning meeting was over, Mithrandir excused himself as well by saying he would visit the Lord Elrond and Frodo. Glorfindel accompanied him, which left Elladan alone, leaning against a marble statue.

This human puzzled him. Glorfindel had shared that she held no faith in human, elf, or hobbit and had no love for his sister for reasons unsaid. He had heard from the hobbits that her unit of Dúnedain Rangers and her husband, Feredir, were slaughtered on the borders of the Shire by the Nazgûl, save a few. She was the cousin to Arwen's lover and had been the keeper of the Ring of Barahir. She travelled with unique company: her horse, Suldal, and the sapient dog, Goldor Orcsbane. He had learned of her failed attempt at defending the hobbits at Weathertop with little to no battle experience and that she was healer before she had married. Now she slept at the bottom of the stairs, through the cold October night, in wait for her Chieftain, a hobbit, and her friend. Most peculiar indeed, but she was nothing worth pursuing with any ounce of curiosity.

It was not long after daybreak that he found some relief from his post. There was a horn that had been blown at the beginning of the valley announcing the arrival of the three travelers whom she awaited. Not long after Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Samwise Gamgee of the Shire and Goldor Orcsbane wearily wandered across the bridge and to the foot of the stairs that led into the Last Homely House.

Elladan watched as Goldor bounded up to Coran and found that she was okay. Aragorn stooped to pick her up and began to carry her tired and sleeping form up the stairs. Elladan retreated out of sight and allowed the four to come into his father's house.

~oOo~

She awoke in the deep hours of the evening to a cool hand placed on her burning cheek. Aragorn caressed her wound as he healed her. He stood over her in a loose maroon shirt and his leather pants. He had not bathed yet. She stared at him as he whispered over her. Moving his hands to her arm, he did the same there. "You are lucky that these wounds are not infected or that deep. Here," he lightly touched the scratch on her face, "there will be a light, fine scar and here," he touched her arm, "there will be a larger scar, though nothing that will mar your beauty, my heart."

She sat up and advanced slowly towards him, extending her arms to him. He allowed her to pull him in an embrace and comforted her. He had been a friend and a leader to the younger generation of Dúnedain and had taken great joy in guiding and counseling the two young betrothed, Feredir and her. She had no one to call father and found he filled the role. She was still a child at heart and had married far too young to a man far too young to marry as well. It was burning love and lust that had bound them and now there was nothing left.

"Ada," she whispered in Sindarin with her face pressed into his shoulder. "How is Frodo?"

"He has not woken yet, but Lord Elrond thinks that he is on the path to recovery and should awake within the next couple of days." He pulled away from her, standing and moving towards the wooden door. "I will send for some food and water, but you should get some more rest."

"Yes, sir." She stopped him before he could remove himself completely from the room. "I would like to talk to the Lord Elrond."

"It shall be arranged," he gave a slight nod and departed from her.

As she recessed into the soft pillow she could not help but think of her own father, who was stationed in Mirkwood assisting the elves there. She had known him only for the first five years of her life. Duilin had parted sorrowfully with her mother, Lennel, and they had not seen him since. She grew up without the guidance or the teachings of a father. The women of the Dúnedain are taught to wield weapons, but they are taught by their fathers. She had not learned because of this and because of her medical training.

She sometimes wondered whether he was alive or not, but found it did not matter to her as much as it did her mother. In Coran's heart, she thought her father a hero, a martyr, and quite distant. Her mother on the other hand did not speak of her father and when she did, she spoke of sorrow and death, ignoring any feeling that would call him a hero.

She began to drift to sleep with these jumbled thoughts. If only she had not been born into the Dúnedain… She may have had a father, a living husband and she would not have to be in the condition she was in. She felt disgusted with those thoughts but began to rationalize them: at one point in every living being's life there is that moment in which one does not want what their life has given them, thinking of different possibilities and other lives that they could have had. She was no different than any other person that had ever lived, that was living or would live. She found comfort in this justification of hers and allowed for her mind to quiet and her eyes to close.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

She stood atop a glittering white tower, staring down at the crowd below. So many had gathered for a reason unknown to her. As she scanned the masses, she drew her bow, aiming.

"Do it. And save him." There was a harsh whisper in her ear, neither male nor female. She turned to look but there was no one on the battlement. "Do it! Do it now!" It screamed in her ear. She raised the bow again, pointing it at the woman that stood next to her king. "NOW!" She released with a feeling of fleeting joy and then a deluge of guilt as it struck true, embedding itself into the chest of her king's poison.

Doubling over from sickness at her actions or from pure instinct as the guards below scanned the towers for a shooter, she sobbed and coughed as she vomited and succumbed to the realization that she had taken a life, an innocent life. But she knew in her dark heart that it was better this way, at least for her people, for the children of her king.

"Coran, what have you done," the soft and gentle voice of Feredir floated over her as if from a memory. She turned to look at him. She saw his red-rimmed eyes as he cried. "You are not who I knew. This creature you have become has ripped the purity from the heart of my Coran. You killed her. In cold blood! Why?"

She uttered not a word, but reached out in wonder and in desperation towards him. He stumbled away in disgust, batting her hands away. "Answer me!" he screamed.

"For our people! For him and his children!" She was crying now. And as tears flowed down her face, she struggled to stand, grasping the cold stone of the marble tower for support.

"It was not your decision to take her from him. She had done nothing wrong. She pledged herself to him! She waited for so many years! You took her from him… Coran."

"Feredir, please forgive me. You must understand why I have done this! He is my family. Our family deserves happiness and her blood would make that impossible! I could not grow old and see his children remain ageless. I could not have them wander this land forever and alone all because of her! Please," her voice cracked as she reached for him again. "I could not betray my family."

He stayed silent and let her hands drop from him. He watched her tears carve valleys in the dirt on her face. As he finally looked at her, he whispered, "But you could betray me."

"I didn't," she mumbled, shaking her head as if she needed to make herself believe her words too. "I didn't. I can't. I haven't!" She stumbled backwards, almost falling off the tower through an empty space in the barricade.

"You have," and he was gone, falling over the edge of the wall.

There was a sickening noise, a disturbing crack … and a thick, rich red polluting the pristine white marble of the ground. As the screams from the crowds down below arose at the second death, she screamed his name as she lost him again, and again by her doing.

"LOOK! ANOTHER!" there was a shout from the crowd and the man pointed to her, standing on top of the tower wall.

There was a silence as the king spoke. "Please, my heart! Do not go to meet him!" Along with power, his voice had a commanding grief. He knew it was her. He knew it would always be her. "Coran!" He screamed as she faltered with the wind. "Please! Back away! PLEASE!" She stood silently, looking down at Feredir's body. "He would not have wanted this!"

Her voice cut through the air like a knife, cool and sharp in the pale morning. "I betrayed him! I betrayed you!"

But he would not listen to her. He started towards her, moving towards the tower. "Do not move! I'm coming to get you! Please, my heart, my love!" He was running, but it seemed as if the world had slowed and he would not make it. That he could not save her. In her dark heart, she wanted to be saved. She wanted to feel his arms about her as he pulled her off the wall. But it was not to be.

She stepped.

"CORAN! NO!" He reached the top, then the edge as he watched her descend.

It was in this moment, she turned to look at him. He would be the last thing she saw. She had saved him. She had saved him. It was a prayer. As the stone and darkness took her, she could hear him screaming over all of the people about them. His voice wrought with so much anguish, so much torment. As she had saved him, she had also killed his heart, wrenching it from his body with arrow and marble.

She felt his hands on her as if trying to wake her.

Then she sat up in her bed in Rivendell, lying between marble sheets and under his soothing hands. A cool sweat had broken out all over her body and there was worry and fear in his eyes. He brought his forehead to hers in gratefulness as she panted deeply. "I thought you had been attacked. You torment the night with screams. What was it that you dreamt of?"

Her eyes widened with apprehension as she mumbled her apology and thanked him for his concern. "It was nothing. It was just a bad dream."

A voice from the corner rose with some sharpness. "It is said that some dreams come true, little one." From the shadows, Lord Elrond stepped. His features were harsh in the moonlight and she could see his power.

She shook her head. "Not this one, my lord." She welcomed the comfort of her king, memorizing the feeling of his hands. "I will not let it happen, for I cannot risk the sorrow of one I hold most dear."

"Go to sleep, my heart," her king whispered with a kiss on her forehead. "And dream of happier times."

She smiled. "I promise I will try."

* * *

Additional Information:

Yes, Mithrandir is good old Gandalf. I took his description from Eomer's dialogue in the Two Towers when he says, "_He walks here and there, they say, as an old man hooded and cloaked._"

I hope Coran is portrayed in a positive light in this chapter, though I doubt it. I hope you can see her character developing. I plan on expanding on how she thinks she would have saved Aragorn and his children by killing Arwen.

I recieved an anonymous comment that did point out some things I would like to clarify. Thank you, Confused.

The main concern is that there is some implication of a romance between Aragorn and Coran. I think the line that does imply this is the quote, "I will not let it happen, for I cannot risk the sorrow of one I hold most dear." She does not have feelings for Aragorn, rather she feels very strongly about her family ties. She does love him like a father and so she would say that he is one she holds most dear.

I would also like to say that Coran thinks that maybe Aragorn's and Arwen's kids would be Half-Elven. She would rather not take the chance and kill Arwen.

I do not know if it was made clear, but Coran dreamt of killing Arwen.

Please keep supporting me! Review and let me know about any errors!

~PlaguedPorcelain


	6. Creek Hopping

Disclaimer: Found in Ch. 1 and 2.

Reviews:

Confused - I understand your puzzlement! To clarify, they are cousins and she does think of him as a father. There is no romance between them. As for Aragorn and Arwen's children, I know they are not elves, though Coran does not know that. She thinks it could be a possibility. I am totally not upset with you! It's quite the opposite. Thank you for your interest and courage to put your thoughts out there, no matter how confused you felt. Thank you for your kind words! I hope I cleared things up!

Additional info is always at the end of the chapter!

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Chapter 6: Creek Hopping

As the sun rose and glinted off the mountain tops, an autumn wind whipped through the valley. The day was cold and eerily quiet. It was October the twenty-fourth. She drifted down to the creek edge to seek quiet. Goldor was at her heels, following dutifully and not making a sound. The wolfhound was pleased to see his master's wife well and was happy that she was not dwelling on unpleasant thoughts.

Beneath the branches of the willow trees, they walked. She could still hear the haunting melodies of the ageless from the stream. The tunes spoke deep into her blood, awakening grief from her _Númenórean_ blood. She tried not to listen but she was constantly reminded of the farewell songs they gave their warriors, like the ones they gave her father. Finally able to ignore them, she reached down and called Goldor over to her side.

"Little Brother, a leaf from that tree is almost as old as this world. It is a marvel, wouldn't you agree?"

Goldor eyed her wearily. He could clearly see that she was trying to rid her mind of evil thoughts by making small talk. She was not usually one for meaningless conversation and he could sense the tension in her bones. "Aye, Coran. It is. What say you to the proposal to do more exploring?"

She raised an eyebrow with a small smile. "And what would that entail, Lord Goldor Orcsbane?"

"Creek hopping, m'lady." His bark was deep and quick as he splashed into the cold brook, sliding around on the mossy rocks beneath his paws. He shook the water off and began to leap around in excitement as he played with the underwater creatures.

Much too confined in her leather tunic, wool cloak and belt that held her dagger and Hathelas, she pulled them off, leaving her standing in her leather boots and pants and a billowy white shirt. She rolled up her pants and took off her boot, pushing any anxieties aside as she waded into the cool water, shivering with a yelp as it reached her calves. "Wait for me, Goldor!"

The dog was already far upstream and she struggled to reach him. Her balance was not good nor was her footing. By the time she had reached him, she had fallen nine times and was soaked head to toe. The filtered sun offered no heat to her goose pimpled skin. The water now reached her knees if she was not on a rock. She laughed as Goldor chased a frightened fish about the small pool they had arrived at.

"Leave him alone, Orcsbane. He is not mighty enough for you to defeat him." She dashed towards him, meaning to persuade him away from the silver-scaled fish.

His laugh was a deep barking. "But you are Coran!" He came after her and tackled her, submerging her in the water. She came up breathless as her lungs had seized up from the cold. She splashed at him in retaliation, chuckling as he flitted away from her.

As she stood, she thought aloud. "This reminds me of an old song."

"What song?" Goldor returned to her side, intrigued at her thoughts.

"The Song of Nimrodel." She took a breath and began to sing, her voice a rich alto in timbre.

_Beside the falls of Nimrodel,  
By water clear and cool,  
Her voice as falling silver fell  
Into the shining pool._

_Where now she wanders none can tell,  
In sunlight or in shade;  
For lost of yore was Nimrodel  
And in the mountains strayed._

Goldor spoke up. "I have a verse!" She sat down in the water, pulling her knees to her chest, listening to Goldor as he recited an old poem of her people.

_"Out of the West we came_

_A warrior king we name_

_For all of Men_

_Must bow to him_

_Of Isildur's blood the same._

_We guard the land day and night_

_Our sons and daughters gladly fight_

_To free the realm of harm_

_With broad shield and mighty arm_

_Until the hour of last light."_

She joined in saying,

_"O, stand Men of the West_

_In darkest hour will it your valor test_

_For mighty deeds have great cost_

_And all hope shall be lost_

_In this your final test, O, Men of the West."_

Goldor came and placed his head on her arm. "I enjoy greatly the reciting that in the murky night, around a fire, as we commune for a meeting."

"Aye, there is something, a deep magic, about that. Or when the Hymn to Elbereth Gilthoniel is sung. There is something otherworldly about such verses." She smiled at some memory of her people singing the Hymn to Elbereth Gilthoniel. Shaking her head as she shook the memories from it, she stood. "Come, we must go back. I fear we have spent too long here."

She was right. As soon as they arrived back to their start there was an elf guard waiting for them. He was younger than the others she had met and had a serious face. His armor gleamed, showing he took pride in his post and she knew that he took his duties seriously. "Halt, milady."

She did so, shivering in the stream. "Hail, Lord Guard. May I retrieve my clothing and come forth from this brook?" He nodded, his light brown hair swaying gently in the breeze. His angular face reminded her someone, though she could not think who.

As she finished dressing, he addressed her again. "Why were you venturing so far from safety?"

"Safety," she scoffed, immediately regretting it as his eyes went wide with rage. "I did not think we had gone that far, Lord Guard."

"Aye but you did. You put yourself in danger, blatantly ignoring the orders of Lord Elrond and your Chieftain."

She raised an eyebrow and did not question for Goldor spoke up. "What orders? We were not told of any restrictions."

The guard did not say anything, but led them up the slopping hill towards the beautiful house of Elrond Half-Elven. Goldor was not pleased that they were reprimanded in such a manor. As if the elves held dominion over him and his mistress! He was agitated to find that Coran held some humor for the incident. Her eyes sparkled with mischief and he was left wondering what she held back for she usually did not keep secrets from him.

They were, of course, silent the entire way back. She gave no clues to any knowledge he yearned for nor did the guard give any explanation of what orders they had violated. Goldor accepted their fate, but he was not prepared for the scolding he received from Merry, Sam and Pippin.

"You let her freeze in the water just after being ill for two or three days!"

"She could catch a cold!"

"You ventured too far from the secure borders!"

"Enough!" he barked. "Who are you to tell me this? Who are you to rebuke Goldor Orcsbane?!" He was tired of their shrill voices ringing in his ears.

And as he thought, he seemed to come to the conclusion that he only had tolerance for two mortals: Feredir and Coran. He was wary or down right disgusted by every other human, hobbit or dwarf. Elves, he could manage them as they never really said anything they hadn't thought about first. Feredir was his first and only master so it was loyalty that had allowed him to tolerate the man. But, Coran, his lady. He truly loved her. He basked in her happiness and wellbeing and was quick to defend her. There was nothing too particularly special about her that made him love her.

Did it have to do with her being Feredir's wife? No. If he had to pick between them, he would pick her, no matter the cost. Maybe it was something primal. She was his alpha-female, just as Feredir had been the alpha-male. With his death, had Goldor moved up in the ranks? Did Coran see him as the only thing of Feredir's possessions she had left? Did she see him as the only companion she would be able to have for the rest of her life as she had no children nor was she looking for another spouse? Whatever reason there was for any of the circumstances that surrounded their relationship, he would not dwell on it as he did not want to ruin it, or her. He would stay obedient and loyal. He would not question the fates nor would he question her.

"You are being too harsh on him, Masters," she whispered from her seat on the stone bench that was positioned across from them. She was now dressed in a wool dress and a thick, fur-lined cloak which she had drawn about herself.

Sam nodded, clearly not wanting anymore conflict. The hobbit bowed to Goldor and her, saying, "Beggin' your pardons. We were only concerned for your wellbeing, m'lady. We weren't tryin' to antagonize you in any way." Pippin agreed with him, moving towards him and away from Merry.

"I understand, Sam, Pippin, Merry." She smiled a slight smile.

"Then, I think we shall take our leave, m'lady," Sam insisted. She inclined her head to them in their departure, watching the retreating backs of Sam and Pippin. She was not surprised to find Merry still lingering in his place.

"And to what do I owe the pleasure of private council with Merry of the Shire?"

"Curiosity," he answered. He was always the clever one. Quick and witty he was and he was a careful thinker. She had deduced that all words he spoke were carefully picked for whoever he was talking to. He would have been an excellent politician had he not been a hobbit for his species had no love of the cruel and tactful game of power plays.

"What of?"

He came a little closer, but not too close as he received a warning look from Goldor. He was earnest in his question and truly wanted to know the answer. He was not accusing her at all, though his question did seem that way. She could see his heart meaning and if she hadn't, she may have thought him offensive. "When we were at Weathertop, both you and Frodo suffered wounds from one of the Black Riders. I understand that he was pierced by one of their poisoned blade and that you were only scratched by a gauntlet spike. But what I do not understand is how you were awake when he has only awoken this morning?"

"He's awake? That is good news indeed," she smiled with more mirth than he had expected. "I do not know the answer to your question other than my wound was not as critical as his. I was lucky that I was not a victim of the Black Breath, which I feared more that infection."

"I see." He seemed to take that for an answer and bowed, hurrying off to find Sam and Pippin.

"That was odd," Goldor growled as he stretched.

"Though not unwelcomed. Come, let us pay visit to Frodo. I would like to see how he is doing and possibly learn how Lord Elrond treated him." Goldor looked at her with confusion. "I plan to learn as much as possible about healing from the great master himself. It is an opportunity too good to let pass."

"Aye, it would be foolish."

As they found themselves in front of Frodo's room, they were met by an old man with a long beard. He looked as if he had traveled over rough terrain as his clothes were dirty and torn. He leaned heavily on his wooden staff as he moved towards them from the doorway.

She stood still as he examined her with narrow and wary eyes. _This is the cousin of Aragorn? The same who tried to heal Frodo, who helped him escape the Black Riders? This is the one who outlived the Shire attack?_ His eyes seemed to scream those thoughts. She felt over studied, as if he was peering too far into her soul, her mind. She felt naked and uncomfortable in his presence.

He relented and she felt a weight lift from her shoulders. He offered her a small smile and said, "Frodo is recovering at the moment and does not desire visitors." That smile seemed to radiate deception.

"I am not a visitor, I am a healer," she returned his smile with slight agitation which she was sure he could sense. He allowed her to pass and did not follow her into the room. Goldor stood watch outside the room. As she came into the room, she saw the Lord Elrond standing by his side, whispering to him slightly.

The lord straightened at her entrance and put out a welcoming hand. "I knew you would come." His slight Elvish drawl was very similar to hers as they exchanged greetings in Westron. She found that most of the elves of Imladris that she had met had the same accent she possessed, unlike Aragorn whose Westron was flawlessly unaccented.

She bowed to the Lord and to Frodo who watched intently from his sitting position on the bed. He was as pale as the white sheets and robe that encased him. He looked like a corpse to her, like his blood had stopped flowing. And for a second she thought that maybe Elrond may not have been successful, that Frodo was still in danger of turning into a wraith as Aragorn had said. But as soon as Frodo offered the smallest of reassuring smiles, she felt at ease.

Coran came to his side, standing next to Elrond, who towered over her like most elves. With her standing next to Elrond, Frodo could see their resemblance, noticing the blood of elves and men in both of them. Coran reached out with a cold hand to lay it on his forehead, feeling for warmth of a fever.

She removed her hand, taking a quick glance at his eyes and the inside of his mouth. He seemed fine. Her searching hands came to the top of his robe. Frodo did not stop her from drawing the fabric off his torso. Coran looked to Elrond, who urged her to continue. She slowly unwrapped the bandage on Frodo's shoulder. As she revealed the wound, she started to examine it, leaning in close to look.

She dared not touch it, knowing that her hands were probably not clean. She was not as worried about cleanliness when she had treated it at first as she only wanted to stop the blood and ease his pain. Now where she could sanitize well, she would take advantage of that. Frodo was lucky to have such accommodations as well as such a skilled healer.

The wound was not infected and was only slight disfiguring. Magic healing of the Elves. She shook her head in disbelief. "Lord Elrond, I would like to learn to heal, serving as an understudy to you. I want to be able to serve my people the best I can and you can teach me to do that."

Elrond smiled down on her. "I will help you achieve this, my lady. Though, I will ask you to vacate this room as Frodo does need to rest. We will talk later," he bowed and showed her to the door.

Goldor was not outside the room. She saw the guard elf who had brought them up from the creek leaning casually against one of the many pillars in the Last Homely House. "Lord Guard, where did you send him?" she asked suspiciously.

"He went with the wizard. Do not fear." His smirk irritated her.

"Why do you keep following us?"

"I'm your handler, as commanded by the Lords Elrond and Aragorn." He shrugged, that stupid smirk still on his lips.

* * *

Additional info:

Title: Creek Hopping. I love to creek hop though I am far worse than Coran, who is still fairly horrible at it.

She sings the Lay of Nimrodel, which is sung by Legolas in the Lord of the Rings.

The poem of the Dunedain is my own work.

Elrond's healing of Frodo's wound was quick and he will teach her some healing prowess.

I am trying to portray Gandalf as more of a manipulator, sort of like Dumbledore. I just think he needed some contrast to the good old man.

A/N: Any questions, comments or whatever, REVIEW below! I don't bite! In fact, I'm as harmless as a newborn puppy! (cute!) HAVE A GREAT DAY!


	7. Talk of Valor

A/N: Sorry this took more than two weeks to update! I've just been really busy. But, be proud of me. I was accepted at the university I really want to go to!

Disclaimer: It is found in Chapters 1 & 2, but as a reminder: I don't own anything except the original characters.

Comments:

Sarah - Thank you for your time and your thoughts. I admit. I did take some liberties with the endearments. I understand completely your points and I will try to remember that. I think that I might be okay with still having them in there for two reasons: one, they were helping tell the story of Aragorn and Coran's relationship and two, of the four times I used them in the chapter, two were during a dream scene and the other two were in limited company. But I totally understand where you are coming from and I will make sure I'm a little more conservative with the endearments. THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME!

Confused - I'm glad you liked the chapter. I think authors need to understand that when a reviewer is putting their words out there it is the same as uploading a story because you never know the types of reactions you'll get. So it always helps to be polite and kind. As for Aragorn and Coran, they will be staying cousins as I personally am a huge Aragorn/Arwen fan and I am writing Coran as a more childish character, so it would not make sense. As for Elrond, he's got it covered. He's got someone watching her always. There's more about it in this chapter. THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME TOO!

Read and Review, please!

* * *

Chapter 7: Talk of Valor

She calmed herself as she breathed deeply. She was angry that her chieftain and Lord Elrond had appointed a babysitter to her. She was not a child anymore; she didn't need to be looked after. Goldor was sufficient enough to protect her. She didn't need an elf, of all beings, to tell her what she should do. "Perhaps you should be guarding the border. I am not the enemy."

"Yet you remain a person of interest. I must wonder about that." He did not move from his position leaning against the post.

"Do your people not trust Men?" She came closer to him, challenging him, a scowl profound on her face.

He shrugged. "We do not trust the resolve of men. You are held to the low standards your ancestors had shone in the early days. It is not fair, but more often than not generations never overcome the standards. It is fact: History repeats itself."

"I will prove you wrong. In the coming years, this generation will prove you wrong. Just watch us."

The smirk grew. "That's what I've been assigned to do."

She turned from him, hiding a small smile. She accepted his charge, knowing she could not take her anger out on him as he was just doing as he was commanded to do. "Do not get in my way." She walked away, allowing him to follow behind her with silent footsteps.

After a while, though, she could no longer tolerate the elf. She felt like a caged animal. Every time she would stray too close to the border or some place that he had deemed inappropriate for her to enter, he would wave her away like she was a lost sheep, stepping from the shadows or dropping down from the tree branches.

As the sun began to set, he escorted her back to the house after her day of exploring. "The Lord Elrond wishes for you to prepare for tonight's supper as we have many important guests attending." He brought her to her room. They were greeted by an elf maiden, who entered from the balcony.

The elf lady was dressed in a long white gown. Her face was quite angular and her light blonde hair was prominent. In vast contrast, her eyes were a dark coco. "This is Lhûn," her escort introduced. The lady bent her six foot frame gracefully in a deep bow.

"My lady Coran." Her accent was different than that of the elves of Imladris; it was more like a Mithlond accent. She probably was named for the river whose mouth the Grey Havens stood proudly upon.

"It is a pleasure," she greeted with a bow as well. "I assume you've been assigned to me?"

"Yes, the Lord Elrond demanded of it. I will serve you and the Lord Elrond well." She kept her head bowed, her long hair falling over her shoulder.

The guard bowed as he began to exit, but was stopped by Coran as she said, "I have been incredibly rude, Lord Guard. I did not inquire your name."

That smirk return and she heaved a sigh as she tried not to think about it. "You have asked me for my name, milady, and I shall give it. I am called Telthedir. I bid you good eve." He offered another bow and left them.

With a kind smile, Lhûn commented on her appearance. "I see you've been exploring the grounds today. Be careful not to tire the Lord Erestor's cousin out too much. The poor lad hasn't had this much excitement since the King under the Mountain and his company arrived a very long time ago. I am very glad that Bilbo elected to come stay with us again. His company is much appreciated among all of us." She began to ramble as she started to fill the bath with the hot water she had taken to the room a little while earlier. It was still a little too hot for Coran to slip into and so both women waited and chatted. "The roads are too dangerous for trade or just normal people. We do not get many visitors. I really like having visitors. It gives me something to do. I think I start experiencing a sort of madness if there is not some excitement going on."

Coran watched her with a smile as the elf maiden took a breath. No, she did not hate all elves. Yes, they could be pretentious sometimes, but not all were like that. She actually did enjoy the company of Lhûn, Erestor and even Telthedir was growing on her. As they judged the water to be the right temperature, Coran slipped out of her clothes and into the water.

Lhûn bent over her, beginning to massage oils into her hair. She continued to talk. "Just before you and the hobbits and the Lord Aragorn arrived, the Lord Erestor came back. He's not a guest, but he did cause enough commotion. He talked about the Black Riders that were out hunting you. He and the Lord Elrond had to decide whether to send a large or a small group to aid you. And after you all arrived there was much excitement, especially when word got around that you waited all through the cold night to see the Lord Aragorn in safely. We all thought it was very admirable, milady."

"Thank you," Coran mumbled as the elf began to gently scrub the dirt from her face and body. Perking up with a thought, Coran asked, "Lord Telthedir told me that many important guests were being received in tonight. Do you know who and what they are here for?"

Lhûn giggled. "Wouldn't you like to know? You are one of those people who like to be prepared for things, aren't you? You like to have things under control?"

She blushed with embarrassment. "Aye."

Lhûn rolled her eyes at her embarrassment began to rinse out the suds of the soap. "Well since it would be bad service on my part to deny you information that is clearly not private as the Lord Elrond would have dismissed me from the discussion room when I was serving him, I shall tell you. The Lord Elrond has called a meeting of many peoples. Elves from the Woodland Realm, Dwarves of Durin's Folk, Men from Gondor are all arriving tonight as they will join the Lord Elrond's council tomorrow. We are having a welcoming feast tonight so the Lord Elrond wants you to be taken care of."

The elf pulled a shivering Coran out of the bath. She was cloaked in a towel and rubbed gently yet furiously as Lhûn tried to warm her again. "Tonight there shall be much celebration. There will be feasting, of course, but we will also sing and dance. Do you do either?"

As Lhûn rubbed a sweet smelling perfumed oil into her skin, she felt as in the elf was molding her, like a potter shapes clay or a baker bread. She answered, "Yes, I like to sing. And as for dancing, I'm far too awful at it to enjoy it. I only danced with Aragorn and my husband at my own wedding. I'm afraid I won't be doing it again soon."

Without knowing it was a touchy subject, Lhûn wondered about her husband, eager to learn more about her charge. "What is he like, your husband?"

She could not blame Lhûn for not knowing. Of course, thinking about him made her want to tear out her insides in grief. But, she did not want to earn the pity of the elf just yet, so she decided to lie. When she finally found the courage to answer, her voice came out small, "He is an excellent man. He is compassionate but stern. He is courageous but not to the point of stupidity. He is my dearest friend in the entire world and I love him. I love him more than is describable." She fought back the bittersweet tears. She would not let Lhûn see her cry.

Lhûn finished with her skin and pulled a dress over her head. "Do you have any children?"

"I was only bonded with him this past spring. Then, we were stationed on the borders of the Shire." Blood flooded her cheeks as she spoke, embarrassed, "I had not yet lain with him."

"What about your wedding night?" The elf finished tying the golden girdle about her waist. She adjusted the dark blue velvet dress as it lay crooked on her small shoulders. Satisfied with the appearance Lhûn pushed Coran down into a chair and began to finger-brush her hair.

"There was an Orc attack that very night. He did not come back for three days. Then he took a whole day to rest and we left for the Shire with a ranger unit the next day." Coran winced as Lhûn detangled her short hair. Her hair was cropped to just below her shoulders in an effort to keep it tidy.

"When you see him again, you'll have to make it as if your wedding just happened. I know he will love you."

As she came around to check the front of her to see how the braid looked, Lhûn's eyes went wide as she saw the young human crying. She knelt in front of her, gathering her hands in her own and whispered softly, "Did I hurt you? Did I say something to upset you?"

Coran could not do it. She could lie no more. Weeping against the elf, she murmured, "He's dead. I will not see him again. I will not lie with him. I will not have his children. All I have left are his haunting memories."

Lhûn cradled Coran and let the girl cry. She knew of the cleansing power of tears. She would much rather she feel better for the ceremonies later than have pent up angst. "I am sorry I questioned you so. It is not my place to ask or to know. I have always been far too curious for my own good and I have found that it is a vice. I will refrain from further wrongdoings by holding my tongue."

"It is not necessary. You did not hurt me, Lhûn. You helped me… to acknowledge my grief better," Coran wiped her eyes and reassured the elf that all was well. "I look presentable enough, yes? Even though I just wept?"

"Yes, m'lady. Should I escort you to the dining hall or call on Telthedir?"

"I would rather have you at my side." She gave a small smile and followed the elf out of her chambers.

~oOo~

"Coran," Aragorn caught her by the elbow as she entered the hall and led her to the largest table in the hall. "You will be seated with the hobbits." She was a late comer and most of the chairs were full. Because of this she could see that she and the hobbits were far away from the Lord Elrond and Aragorn. Most of the guests from the foreign lands were seated on the side where her chieftain sat.

With a snide tone, she commented softly, "The small folk and I are to be far from any political or diplomatic discussions? I understand. I am a woman and they are naïve to the world. We know nothing."

He gripped tighter as they neared. "Do not be so foolish. They are other reasons than that." They broke away to take their respective seats.

Coran glowered as the feast started. Lord Elrond had been kind enough to take in the dietary considerations of the various peoples. For instance, where she sat with the hobbits, there was much more food than down the table where the ambassadors sat. Even Arwen was allowed to sit with the leaders. She was allowed to give her input. She was allowed to describe what happened. But Coran could not? She was sat at the children's table while they were at the adult table. She felt ridiculed and unimportant.

Pulling her from her churning thoughts, Frodo introduced his uncle to her. "Lady Coran, this is my uncle, Bilbo Baggins."

"It is a pleasure," she faked a smile, still brooding about her placement.

"No, it is all mine."

"I have heard tales of your adventure. My father was a dear friend to King Thorin. You did a very unselfish thing, helping them. Your heart is kind and you are very brave. I only wished that I had even half the valor you possess, sir." She meant this earnestly. She loved the tale of the Dwarves and their Thief. She particularly loved the songs.

"That warms my heart tremendously, lass. I, too, have heard of your courage. You helped heal Frodo and tried to protect these lads. No ordinary woman would do that."

"I am not who you say I am. I am no courageous being. I would have been able to protect them or even die for them if I was filled with bravery." She had barely touched her food and had begun to play with it, disheartened from eating.

Bilbo had a twinkle in his eye. He reached for her hand across the table. In doing so, he claimed the attention of the room, silencing them with his actions. In a kind voice, he said, "It is not always those who succeed who are the real heroes. It is those who stand and fight despite the odds, despite failure. It is the heart you put behind your actions, not the actions themselves, lass." He gave her hand a comforting squeeze before sitting down again. All of the young hobbits looked at him with admiration, completely taken with him. As she glanced down the table to where the leaders gathered gazed thoughtfully and smiled at his words.

He was truly loved, this hobbit. She also felt that Frodo would one day command the same admiration his uncle had. It was just something about hobbits.

Returning to conversation about Bilbo's journey and his life with the dwarves, she brightened a little as she chatted with him about the songs of the dwarves, no longer playing with her salad. They were having a nice discussion about weeds and their many uses when a commotion was heard down at the other end of the table just after the third course.

The dwarves bellowed and roared for some unknown reason before dying down in spent anger. Several of the males at the end of the table stood threateningly. It seemed that it was mainly the elves who seemed to take offense at the words of the dwarves. Coran and Bilbo were quick to their feet as well, readying to say something, anything.

"I think it is best we retire to the Hall of Fire," Lord Elrond suggested as he rose slowly, calming his guests with a chilling and stern gaze. He took Arwen by the arm and led their procession into the hall. As all of the guests were seated, Lord Elrond called their attention again. "This is a place of tales and songs. We honor each other here. Please, share your talents and love."

Filled with excitement Bilbo took the floor. He recited several verses of his own making before announcing, "I would like to honor our Dwarven guests, one of which is the son of one of my companions. He is Gimli, son of Glóin. This is a song that has been very near to my heart and I would love to share it with you all. But, I daresay that I cannot sing this alone. The young lady I met tonight knows the verses and if she is willing, we may sing for all to hear." Bilbo smiled, his eyes twinkling in merriment as he put her on the spot. At the expecting looks from the other hobbits and from many of the other guests gathered, she stood, willingly, and took the spot next to him.

He allowed her to start the first verse in her dark alto voice and joined in on the second.

_Far over the misty mountains cold,_  
_In dungeons deep, and caverns old,_  
_We must away, ere break of day,_  
_To seek the pale-enchanted gold._

_The dwarves of yore cast mighty spells,_  
_While hammers struck like ringing bells,_  
_In the deep, where dark things sleep,_  
_In hollow halls, beneath the fells._

_For ancient kings and elvish lords,_  
_There lay many a gleaming golden hoard,_  
_They shaped and wrought, and light they caught,_  
_To hide in gems, on hilt of sword…_

_..._

Time seemed to become irrelevant as they raised their voices, the dwarves joining them as well. She lost all sense of awareness and soon the song was over and many of the other guests had entertained them with song or story. The fire burned hot through the late hours of the night and sleep threatened to take her. Somehow she found herself leaning tiredly against Lhûn who plucked a harp. It was Telthedir who carried her back to her room, sound asleep in his arms. He and Lhûn carefully laid her to sleep on the bed before turning from the room.

"She is still very much a child," the elf maiden commented absentmindedly as they retreated to the hallway.

"Aye, I do not see how she will be able to accomplish the task set before her by the Lord Elrond when she is so childlike." He retorted.

"Well, most mortals are. Besides, I have good hope that she will be able to do what is asked of her."

"I hope you are right. For her fate shall be decided tomorrow at the council."

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Translations:

Telthedir: Fetcher, one who fetches

Lhûn: name of the river that the Grey Havens sits on

A/N: Yes, I borrowed Lhûn's name from my other LOTR story, To Spoil the Sun. I just like her character.

If I have forgotten anything or done something wrong or if you'd like to ask a question or suggest something, please tell me! I will value and appreciate you, your words and your time! Just leave me a review and I'll see if I can even try to be helpful!

~PlaguedPorcelain


	8. A Past Not Forgotten

A/N: Wow, this took a long time to write. I totally apologize about the time. Spring semester is certainly busy for me with tennis, church, school and work; it seems as if I barely sleep. Well I don't have much to say other than thank you for your continued support!

Read and review! Thanks!

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Chapter 8: A Past Not Forgotten

She awoke to the smell humid dog breath and felt wet, slimy drool land solidly on her cheek and slide down towards her ear. As it entered, she screamed, sitting straight up in the bed, forcing Goldor to yelp and flail away from her. When she had finally managed to rid her ear of almost all of the slobber, she sent him a disgusted look to which he flattened his ears against his head in shame. Coran raised her eyebrows at him and asked, "Why?"

He offered no explanation. He muttered his apology before stating his real purpose behind his coming. "We must flee from here. There is a secret meeting in the Chamber of the Lord Elrond. The important guests from last night and some of the ones we travelled with are there. We were not, however, invited. The Lord Elrond actually ordered Lhûn to occupy us for the day. Now, I figured we should go to that meeting… There is a roof that hangs over the meeting and there are stairs up to the roof. We could go…" He continued to babble about the meeting and their apparent espionage mission.

She did not answer but started to change into her ranger clothes. If they were going on such a mission, she would need trousers and not the limited movability of a dress' skirt. "Why were we not invited? I have testimony just as Aragorn and Frodo about the happenstances that had occurred."

Goldor cocked his head to the side, in a way willing her on. Coran continued. "You know as well as I do that this is Aragorn's doing. He would not have me disgracing him or the Dúnedain."

The wolfhound had knowledge of human discrimination. Those who are different were lesser. Women were below the men. Those of a darker color, below those purely pale. Those of mixed race, beneath the common folk. Those who must sacrifice honor and must defile their bodies to feed themselves or their family are the lowest of the low. He did not understand their thoughts of differences as with his kin, he was accustomed to helping every creature in need. Were they not taught to accept others of their kind? They had hate for those different from them only because of the differences and not for their soul. "Why would he think that?"

"Apparently women get too emotional for such topics as war and evil…" She sighed and faked a faint onto her bed. "It's best left to the men." As they sat in silence, Coran and Goldor succumbed to their thoughts of the places of people in society.

They heard the cheery voice of Lhûn approaching from down the hallway, her song echoing brightly off the walls. Springing up, Coran nodded to the window, marking their exit. She put a finger to her lips as they quickly snuck out of her room and onto the balcony. They were about eight feet up from the ground. She mouthed the word 'go' to Goldor and the dog went over the railing. Coran followed after him. Soon they were away, running breathlessly and silently to the safety of trees and shadows.

As the pale golden and green leaves hid them from the eyes of Lhûn, they could not save their laughter. Thankfully, they were too far into the thicket for their voices to be recognizable. As their laughter died, Coran pulled on Goldor's tail harmlessly and teasingly. "Do you remember when you were but a pup and we would run away from Feredir just as we did from Lhûn?"

"We were much more frivolous in those days." He sent a searching look over Coran's features. Moving forward cautiously, he muttered, "Those days were before your sister died…needlessly."

As quick as the subject was changed, her mood did as well. She snapped, hurt and angrily at him, "My sister did not die needlessly. She died so that _she_ could live and _she_ could love _him_."

"You still blame her for your sister's death?" Goldor had taken to sitting next to the tree she leaned against. She slid down slowly next to him, feeling the bark prickle at her back.

In the faded light of the trees, she cast a hand over her face, shielding it from his sight. She repeated the words she had rehearsed in her head and out loud so many times before. "Arwen Undómiel left my sister to die at the hands of an Orc pack that attacked them on their way back from Lórien." She became a bit distracted by the wind in the leaves as she continued. "It's just a bit too convenient that Calithil loved Aragorn."

"You were very young when Calithil died. Surely you might not remember…" The fact of the matter was that no one except those present at the time of the attack knew what had happened. Coran only knew what her mind had deduced and the report given by the Elvish Company. He was also very young then, only being a puppy. His mind, however, was not marred by bias or aging.

"I was eight winters old. I remember fairly well. Last time I saw her, Calithil was going to profess her love to him. I warned her against it. She knew she would never be able to marry him, seeing as we are close cousins. But, at the end of the day, what harm would her professing her love would do? It got her killed!"

He narrowed his eyes at her narrow mind. He barked in fury, "Do you really believe that Lady Arwen deliberately left your sister behind? That it was a planned action?"

"The rest of her escort returned yet my sister did not! Certainly, that was her fate, to die for unrequited love!"

He watched her stand before he continued. Her body shook with anger or perhaps, sorrow. "There must be another reason why Calithil did not return."

"Only Arwen knows, and she does not share secrets. She did not even express regret or her sympathies." Her words came out as frozen as the October morning. "She has no heart."

He nudged her aggressively, pushing her back towards the Last Homely House. "I grow tired of this. Neither of us should be arguing about past happenings. What transpired, transpired. There is nothing we could have done then nor now. Come; let's go to the Lord Elrond's meeting."

She agreed, following slightly behind him. He did not wait for her or look back. As they moved through the trees, he could hear her light footsteps. She drifted between thoughts and memories, her brain mixing them into truth. As the wind whipped through her hair she could not help but think of Calithil.

"Wait Calithil! Wait for me!" Coran's little six year old legs ran after her older sister. "I want to come with you!"

With a laugh and twinkle in her eye, Calithil turned to Coran and put her finger to her lips to ask for her silence. She crouched low and motioned for Coran to do the same. The little girl dropped to all fours and crawled to Calithil. "Aphado nin," she whispered in her airy Sindarin. "Follow quickly!"

The two of them stalked their prey like a mountain lion stalks a stag. It was growing ever darker as they hiked up the foothills, chasing shadows and noises. They were hunting down an elk that had escaped from its herd. If it had made it into the mountains, then hope was lost. The chance of survival dropped drastically as the elevation increase, for not only did bears and mountain lions roam the higher passes but goblins and orcs as well.

The young elk darted from behind a bundle of trees and into a clearing near some aspen trees to nibble on the bark of the tree. "Look, Calithil! The elk!" The animal raised its head in alarm. Tense was its stance; its eyes wild with fear. The older girl gave her sister a disapproving look. She raised her hand as if to say 'stay'.

Coran watched her sister lurk very close to the ground, her long black hair cascading over her form. With elegant form and swift action, a lariat was slipped about the elk's neck. When it realized that it had been caught, Calithil was immediately there to calm its nerves, pressing her forehead against its in a soothing motion as she whispered comforting words. "Come here, Coran. Do not be afraid." She held her hand out to her younger sister, encouraging her forward.

Coran nervously walked to the elk, keeping eye contact with the animal as to not frighten it. She reached out to pet it and her legs faltered, sliding over a root. She was sent tumbling to the ground with a loud cry that echoed throughout the silent groove. Calithil did not move to help her up, but shushed her as she strained to listen. "Coran, do you hear that?"

"No, I do not hear anything…"

"We must move!" She took Coran by the hand and started to run, almost dragging the girl along.

"Calithil, I'm too slow!" Stopping for a second, Calithil picked up her younger sister and put her atop the elk.

"Hold tight to him." Whispering in Sindarin to the elk, she told it, "If you drop her, you surrender yourself to the most painful of torture." She started again, running through the aspen as the sun sank lower and lower.

She heard it then and it sent a shiver down her spine along with the fear that made her blanch. An evil noise bounced off the barks of the trees and over the foothills, an Orc horn sounded deep in the forest behind her. And they were not too far behind.

Slowing her pace to think, she pulled them into an alcove hidden by thick brush. She helped Coran slide off and told her to sit quietly and that everything would be okay. The elk pranced nervously about them as he could sense the Orcs nearing. Thinking quickly, she pulled out her curved long dagger. "Coran, look away." Just as she did, Calithil sawed open the young elk across its abdomen. She pulled some of the squirming intestines out and then called for Coran. "Come here."

The girl nearly puked at the sight of the elk, its insides splayed out and bloody on the grass before Calithil. "I need to hide you." Coran could guess where. Her sister was tactical. She would hide Coran in the elk carcass and lure the orcs away from her. She didn't want to do it, though. "I know, Coran, but it will save you." She kissed her forehead and brushed her dark hair aside. "Do not come out until you hear Dúnedain. Do you understand me?"

"Yes." She calmed her stomach and crawled inside the gushy warmth of bloody elk's stomach. She became nauseous as she felt the blood run through her hair and into her mouth. She shuddered with disgust as she pushed her mouth to the cut in the elk so she could breathe.

"May the Valar protect you, love," Calithil whispered to her.

Calithil gathered branches and bush to hide the elk carcass. Laying them gently over the body she was trying to cover. What transpired next she only knew from the story she had heard from Calithil.

Calithil could hear their foot falls, rough and uncoordinated as they ran towards her position. Fleeing, she led them away from her sister. She was quick but soon they were upon her swarming over the hill in a pack. She counted fifteen as she looked behind her. Fearful that the sun was dropping too quickly in the sky and that dark was coming, she slowed her pace and faced them, drawing her sword. She had a better chance of fighting in the light.

The orcs surrounded her, clanging their weapons against their chests in an effort to terrify her. She scoffed at them, standing straighter with hooded eyes that gave away only impatience. "Cowards," she hissed, turning her head to the side and glancing at those who were behind her. "Fifteen against one, fifteen against a woman?"

"Be quiet!" The leader, tall and broad, stepped forward from the outer edge of the circle. He was the ugliest thing she had ever seen. The right half of face was bulbous with pus and his nose was gone. Fire had burned away his left ear and most of his cheek. Most of his teeth were rotting and his skin was a putrid gray color. As he reached her, he circled her. "What is the little girl doing in the wood alone and at night? There are monsters here."

He swiftly grabbed hold of her sword arm before she could pull away with his clawed hand, drawing blood and made her drop the sword. "Speak," he commanded forcefully as he kicked the sword away.

She blinked back tears of pain and whispered her answer quietly, "Hunting."

He laughed and released her before landing a punch on her stomach causing her to fall to her knees. "That is where the little girl belongs, on her knees. That is the only job for a bitch." He walked out of the circle without turning around. "She's yours, boys."

They descended on her with noises of excitement and their claw ripped at her skin and her clothes. She screamed as they bruised and beat her and whimpered as they cut her, beginning to fillet bits of her. Then she heard the most comforting sound, the whizzing of arrows. One by one her assaulters were felled, their shrieks dying upon her ears.

"Dúnedain!" the leader called out, but it was too late. What was left of the Orc pack had been slaughtered and he joined them as well, his disfigured head rolling.

"Calithil," her brothers and sisters came to her, pulling her to her feet, checking the small cuts on her arms and legs. Feredir sheathed his sword with a clink and advanced upon her. His eyes were filled with worry and he gripped her shoulders, his brow furrowing. "Where is she? Is she safe?"

"Yes. Come, let us retrieve her." Calithil knew that Feredir was talking of her sister. They were betrothed; they had been since Coran's birth. He was her protector and always would be. Knowing that she had wandered into dangerous territory with her caused him to worry and she felt a pang of guilt for it was her encouragement that let her sister face danger. She accepted his arm of support but she almost could not bear the disappointment that radiated off him.

She brought them to the alcove, and pointed to the area, before propping herself up against a tree, waves of pain cascading over her from movement. Feredir sprinted to the pile of branches, pulling them off the elk. He looked over to Calithil in disgust as he uncovered the animal. He admired her quick thinking but he knew that Coran would be scarred by the experience of being stuffed inside. He knelt, his fingers brushing gingerly against hers, the only things visible of her. She quickly retreated them inside. The elk had become like a womb, protecting her.

Bending down closer to the opening he whispered in a soothing voice. "Coran, I am here."

He heard a little cough, a gurgle more like it, as she tried to talk. He shoved his hands inside the animal, grasping her shoulders and pulled her out as gently and quickly as possible. She looked like a newborn, except she was covered in blood. She gasped as she gulped down air and clung to him. He wiped some blood off her face, forcing her to look at him as he brought his face to her, touching his forehead to hers. "You are safe."


	9. The Council of Elrond

A/N: Senior Year is finally getting crazy. Luckily for me, this is the easiest chapter by far to write. This is the Council of Elrond. Warning, this chapter contains much dialogue. I apologize. And I was only able to get through the forming of the Fellowship. I wasn't even able to bring up Elrond's plans for Coran.

Thank you all who have commented. It truly warms my heart!

Disclaimer: ALL DIALOGUE THAT BELONGS TO TOLKIEN OR ANY AFFLIATES OF THE MOVIE FRANCHISE IS NOT MINE. I DO NOT WISH TO PROFIT OFF OF IT.

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Chapter Nine: The Council of Elrond

The crisp wind had picked up a little as they situated themselves on the rooftop. The Council had not yet begun as Elrond was not present. The various visitors whispered amongst themselves so that their conversations were not able to be heard.

"This was a bad idea. I fear the wind has picked up too much for us to eavesdrop on this meeting. We will not be able to hear a thing!" Coran looked to Goldor in disappointment, having almost forgiven him for their argument. Thinking about her sister and inevitably Feredir cleared her mind. She adored both of them to the last of their days and she still worshipped them, loving no one more.

"We could move lower… to those bushes below. But, we would be more easily spotted." Goldor surveyed the land below, trying to find a suitable hiding place.

As they looked, they did not hear the elf approach them from behind. He leapt from a tree and padded softly up to them. "Well," he reached forward, grabbing ahold of Coran as she jolted with surprise, nearly toppling to her death. "I did not expect a dog and a girl to be up on the roof. You know if you want a better hiding place you should have arrived sooner. Those bushes are taken."

"Did Lhûn send you to find us, Telthedir?" She looked between the elf and Goldor, who did not seemed surprised that the elf was before them. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion as they settled on Telthedir.

He raised his eyebrows, smirking in triumph. "No, she did not. It was the Lord Elrond who did. He says that you are making too much of a distraction. We are to go to him. Let us go." He offered his hand to her, pulling her to her feet.

So, Elrond wanted her to be at his council that would influence the fate of the world. She would offer testimony about the day of the Shire attack. This was real progress. This is why she was travelling to find her chieftain, for results.

As they entered the meeting place, Telthedir took her by the arm and walked her to an open seat beside Aragorn who looked at her with tired eyes. He took a cleansing breath and she thought that he was mentally preparing himself for the council. He said not a word to her but continued his deep breathing.

She sat in the chair as Telthedir took his place, standing behind her chair. The other visitors quickly filled their seats, some eyeing her and Goldor, who lay next to her feet, warily. There was a slight and nerve-racking silence that was held in the air as Elrond and his sons, Elladan and Elrohir finally joined the meeting, taking their seats as well. They were seated next to Glorfindel and Erestor, both smiled kindly at her. Politely, she returned one quickly before having her eyes drift down to her lap again.

Elrond continued standing and began to address them all, "Strangers from distant lands, friends of old, you have been summoned her to answer the threat of Mordor." He glanced about, making eye contact with all. At first his stare on her was hard but then softened with slight acknowledgement and an inclination of his head. He returned to his grave welcoming. "Middle Earth stands on the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom." His eyes were trained on Frodo, eyes dark with worry and hunger. "Bring forth the Ring, Frodo."

Coran squirmed as Frodo placed the Ring on the pedestal before the council. A dark voice, a black voice screamed in her head. Its words dug deep into her heart: traitor, murderer, liar; they sounded over and over again. She closed her eyes, trying to mentally barricade her mind from the voice. It worked. But she felt a nasty feeling squirming again within her stomach. It was Feredir's soft voice that came to her. He did not whisper the names, but asked her to take the Ring. _Take the Ring_, he coaxed, _Save me. Love me. Keep me. Bring me back._

A quick hand settled upon her forearm, its fingers snaking about it, holding firm to her. She took a quick breath, completely startled. Opening her eyes, she found Aragorn's hand holding on to her. She nodded her thanks to him, brushing his hand away.

The whole affair had happened quickly, far more quickly than she had thought. Frodo was just now returning to his seat. Only Aragorn had noticed her little episode.

No, that was wrong. She looked across the circle. A tall and broad man stood, his dark hair falling across gray eyes. He had noticed. He refocused his eyes on the Ring. "In a dream, I saw the Eastern sky grow dark, but in the West, a pale light lingered, voices crying, 'Doom is near at hand. Isildur's bane is found.'" He reached out, daring to touch the Ring. As he neared, he whispered, "Isildur's bane."

Elrond stood quickly with a shout, "Boromir!"

Coran chuckled darkly to herself. _So, this is Boromir, Captain of Gondor. Our brothers in the South seem so… eager. _

Her thoughts were interrupted by the old wizard who spoke brazenly, speaking the Black Speech of Mordor. The sky clouded and the ground shook, startling all who were present. "Ashnazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulûk, agh burzum-ishi krimpatul." She winced at the words, slightly in pain. The voice in her head had spoken the language.

Goldor leapt up from his peaceful spot, barking and growling at Gandalf. In a dangerous voice, he snarled warningly, "You taint the air with that speech, conjurer!"

Elrond was swift to follow with his comment. "Never before has any voice uttered the words of that tongue here in Imladris."

The smart retort was immediate. "I do not ask your pardon, Lord Elrond, for the Black Speech may yet be heard in every corner of the West. The Ring is all together evil!" He took his seat again, glaring across the way to Aragorn as if he was trying to communicate something to her chieftain.

Again, Boromir was to his feet. "It is a gift!" Coran snorted sardonically, earning a well-deserved look from Aragorn. "A gift to the foes of Mordor!" Coran found some amusement in Boromir's revelation of using the Ring. "Why not use this ring?" It was clear to her that the Ring had great power, though she did not know how. If it was indeed Isildur's Bane then even the Steward's son should understand that it could not be used for such purposes as he was suggesting.

"Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe. Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy! Let us use it against Him." The Steward's son was clearly worked up, adrenaline fueling his thoughts and speech.

She was caught off-guard when Aragorn answered logically. "You cannot wield it. None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master!" Her Chieftain was radiating impatience and anger, which usually were gifts reserved for her alone now that Feredir and Calithil were gone. He was the one who ruined Boromir's childish dreams. And who better than the rightful king?

"And what would a ranger know of this matter?" He smirked with a short mocking laugh.

Coran and an elf both rose to their feet, fast to defend him. She shouted, "You address your King!" Her voice almost drowned out the elf's answer, "This is no mere ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance."

Boromir looked wildly between them, settling his glare on Coran, who returned his look.

Aragorn waved them off. "Sit down," he said in Sindarin.

Boromir narrowed his eyes at the seated King. In a low voice, he said, "Keep your bitch on a leash."

Coran lunged at Boromir, fumbling for her dagger as Goldor snarled. Suddenly a large back was in front of her face and a hand holding her hand with the dagger still. Aragorn unleashed his anger. "If you speak in that manner towards her again, I will not hesitate to take action against you."

The Gondorian laughed again. "So this is Isildur's Heir. He can't even rule his wenches, let alone a kingdom. Gondor has no king. Gondor needs no king." He sat back down, staring daggers at Aragorn. Coran wished she could have spoken for Aragorn and maybe even fought for him. But she knew deep down that she had neither the heart nor the training to do so. Her temper would get the best of her one day and it would be her downfall.

With renewed vigor, Gandalf continued the conversation. "Aragorn is right. We cannot use it."

"You have only one choice: the Ring must be destroyed." Coran was glad that both Elrond and the wizard were keeping level heads about the matter, unlike the young man from Gondor. Even she, as infantile as she was, could see his childish mannerisms.

One of the dwarves suddenly got to his feet and rushed the Ring and muttered something as he struck down on it with his axe. The weapon shattered, throwing him back. Coran looked by to Elrond to see the elf's features lighten slightly with amused satisfaction. "The Ring cannot be destroyed by any craft we here possess, Gimli son of Glóin. The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade."

Elrond's eyes searched the circle once more, stopping only on Frodo and Aragorn briefly. "It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from which it came." He hesitated now, slowing his words. "One of you must do this."

Content in not saying anything for once, she watched as the young Gondorian asserted his opinion again with slight ire. "One does not simply walk into Mordor. Its Black Gates are guarded by more than just orcs. There is an evil there that does not sleep. The Great Eye is ever watchful." A bright flash of a fiery eye flared up in her mind, searing her body with pain as he spoke. That haunting voice, that seducing voice was back. _Murderer. Liar. Traitor. Coward! _She forced her eyes open, focusing only on Boromir, willing the voice away. "Tis a barren wasteland, riddled with fire and ash and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly."

Legolas was once again quick to his feet with a retort. "Have you heard nothing the Lord Elrond has said? The Ring must be destroyed."

His outcry prompted the dwarves to retaliate with: "And I suppose you think you're the one to do it?"

"And if we fail, what then? What happens when Sauron takes back what was his?" With Boromir's added heat, the dwarf felt it necessary to add, "I would be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an elf!"

Like a dam breaking all negotiations stopped as anger burst forth like a flood. Even Aragorn joined the yelling, leaving only Frodo, the sons of Elrond, the Lord himself, Coran and Goldor to remain seated. Staring across the way, Coran tried to catch Frodo's glance.

As he began to softly convulse as he stared at the ring, Coran flew from her seat, trying to come to him. She was caught by Telthedir, whose strong arms circled her shoulders, holding her in place. "Let me go! Frodo! He needs help!"

"It is not your time to contribute," the elf whispered. They watched Frodo battle with some mental demon, twitching with agony.

"He hears the voice, Telthedir." Coran relaxed slightly in his arms as he led her back to her chair, calming herself. "Frodo!" She tried to snap him out of it. His eyes widened and as she yelled his name one last time, he looked to her with a tired smile. He gave her a quick, regretful look and stood.

"I will take it." His soft voice was only heard by those not arguing. Coran could only stare at him, horror flooding her mind. "I will take it," he repeated a little louder, coming to the crowd. It was then they finally heard him, dying down. "I will take the Ring to Mordor." All eyes were on him, it was then he realized the severity of his decision. Looking down at his feet in solemnity, he mumbled, "Though I do not know the way."

He began to look around, searching for some comfort. The old wizard was the first to offer any. "I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins." Gandalf stood behind Frodo, placing a gentle, consoling hand on his small shoulders. "For as long as it is yours to bear."

From beside her, she saw movement as Aragorn stood. Immediately she took his hand, shaking her head. "No," she whispered. He gave a quick squeeze and told Frodo, "By my life or death, I can protect you, I will."

Telthedir strengthened his hold on her shoulder, keeping her firmly in place as she let her King leave her behind. Aragorn would die completing this task, they all would. It was a suicide mission with a small chance of success. If he died, the line of the King would die and the prophecy would be broken. The coming of the King would be nothing but a fairy tale and the wound of the heirless throne would give way to the infection of politics and tyrannies.

Her King's next words were almost lost on her ears as she worried. "You have my sword." He knelt as he pledged his fealty to Frodo. She nearly missed Gandalf giving a slight wink to Elrond as they exchanged glances. The elf who had defend her King stood and gave his allegiance too: "And you have my bow."

They both moved to stand behind Frodo as the dwarf pledged his axe in a proud manner. The last to swear was Boromir. She watched him saunter towards them, a smirk on his face. "You carry the fates of us all, little one. If this indeed is the will of the council, then Gondor will see it done."

A shout from the bushes startled all gathered as little, brave Samwise Gamgee stumbled into the clearing. Telthedir had told the truth; that spot was indeed taken. "Mister Frodo is not going anywhere without me."

"No, it is hardly possible to separate you two even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not," Elrond said with slight humor, arching his brow.

"Oi! We're coming too," Merry and Pippin ran to their friends, daring anyone to stop them. "You'd have to send us home in a sack to stop us!" "Anyway, you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission, quest, thing…"

Merry muttered to Pippin as Coran made her decision. Frodo looked to Coran. She could not make out if he wanted her to join him or not. Pushing Telthedir's hands aside, she stood. "With me, Little Brother," she murmured. Goldor jumped up, snarling at Telthedir, keeping him at bay.

Coran approached, her head low. She addressed none but Frodo. It was him who had kept her strong in the days after her husband's death. It was for him that she now lived her life. She would protect him in any way possible, whether it be at his side or not. That was her decision. She knelt in front of him too, collapsing on both knees before the hobbit. She grasped his hands within her own, smooth cool hands running over his battered features.

She choose Sindarin to convey her message to him. "Forever, I shall be in your debt, my beloved friend. I ask you to use me as you will. I pledge my life to you for eternity, my friend." With that, she sealed herself to him. There were only two others who had received her life oath and they were her king and her love. She kissed his forehead, wishing her blessing upon him. "You are not alone. You are never alone. Remember that." She kissed each of his cheeks. Her mouth lingered next to his ear and she whispered so that only he could hear her. "I heard the voice too. It will seduce you. Stay strong."

She released him, standing. Moving to each of the hobbits she told them to be brave and then stood before her King. Reciting an ancient Dúnedain verse, she said, "'For he was lost and so was hope. Where was the banner and drum? Where were the soft ground and the hard stones? For he died in a foreign land with no love. Foolish was he to take on such a task. For none remain to honor him; they only remember his name.'" She took the Ring of Barahir from around her neck, passing it to him. "So I may be able to find you later," she told him as he looked questioningly at her. And he knew that she had surrendered hope.

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A/N: I'm so incredibly lazy for using the dialogue from the movie. I'm a terrible person and I need to be punished.

For those who think its a bit odd for Goldor not to speak, do not worry: it shall be explained in Chapter 10!

Coran, laughably enough, understood that the meeting was serious and I am glad she decided to stay silent for most of the time. She has to be mature at some points.

REVIEW and applaud Coran's maturity!


	10. Fates and Faith

A/N: Thank you to all who support, read and review this piece. As much as this is for me, it is for you as well. I just want to keep thanking you so THANK YOU!

Disclaimer: 1st and 2nd chapter :D

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Chapter 10:

Fates and Faith

The newly formed Fellowship took their respective seats as Elrond called them back to the council. There were still items to discuss. Elrond straightened in his seat. "I have seen something terrible happening in the land of Rohan: a sickness spreads throughout the land. It is known only as Stone Death. The victims of this disease have such symptoms like black bruise-like spots and hair loss. They are also subject to stiff joints and paralysis. Ultimately, if this is not cured, the victims will die in a month. I am not sure of the cause for this disease, but it is weakening the population of Rohan. If we are to call on them when war comes, I fear they will not be as effective as we hope if this illness continues to claim lives. I suggest we send in skilled healers to combat this sickness."

Coran sat and thought while the representatives from each race talked amongst themselves. Something was bothering her about what he was suggesting. She turned to look at Aragorn, who was also thinking deeply. She cleared her throat to get Elrond's attention. "My Lord Elrond, is there a cure?"

The men quieted down as he answered her. "I do not know. That would be why I wish to send a team of skilled healers in order to find a cure. I also do not wish to risk this disease spreading to the other cultures. We should contain and smother it."

Elrond seemed unsure with the situation. He was worried about the disease. Catching on to that notion, Coran asked, "Who is it affecting? The gentry? The peasants? Just humans?"

"Again, I am not sure on whether it affects different races. I have seen, though, a vision of a few victims. I have seen both nobility and peasants plagued with this disease." He was holding back something. She could tell. And if she could, most others could.

Aragorn caught on to her thoughts like they had a psychic connection. "My Lord, who of great importance has Stone Death?"

"It is believed that Théoden King has contracted it. Which brings me to another point: under his rule as of late, many are questioning his authority, namely his lords. I fear if something is not done soon to right the order of authority the rule of Théoden King shall be overthrown whether from within or outside. If what Gandalf has said is true, Saruman is massing an army. It is possible that in Rohan's weakened state, he may strike. Or it may even be the Wildlings. And we cannot discount his lords."

"This is a grave situation indeed. I agree with your judgment, my lord," Aragorn nodded. Several others joined in with 'ayes' and nods.

"Are there any that disagree with this course of action?" Finding none, Elrond continued. "Following that ruling, I inquire who you wish to send to combat this disease." Again those around her talked amongst themselves, whispering names and listing abilities.

After some deliberation, Elrond was ready to accept ideas. The first to speak was Aragorn. "I wish to offer the names of your sons, Elladan and Elrohir, who have both been diligent students of the healing arts."

Elladan responded for the both of them. "While I am happy my name and the name of my brother have been offered, as the Lord Elrond knows, we must decline. We have business in the North."

"I must concur. They are already preoccupied." He gave a quizzical look to Aragorn. "I am curious, though, to why you did not offer the name of your cousin, seeing as she is highly skilled in healing."

With a dark look, he commanded, "She will not be going. Not into danger."

Before she could defend herself, little Samwise Gamgee piped up. "Strider, I think she would be well-suited. She did save Frodo. If she was not there, Frodo may not have been able to survive as long as he did. I submit Coran's name for consideration."

She smiled smugly at Aragorn as Elrond declared, "As her name has been submitted, I must entertain this motion. First, I would like to know her intentions and then I will hear from the rest of the council. Lady Coran?"

Standing, she came to the middle of the circle to properly address the gathered representatives. "Other than the Lord Elrond, his sons, and my Chieftain, I have the most knowledge of the healing arts gathered here. I feel that it would be my duty to serve this council in any way I can, even if it means I put myself in danger in a foreign land. I would gladly accept this quest if it is indeed given to me." She bowed and sat down.

Leaning over her, Telthedir whispered, "How mannerly of you…" She gave him a stifling look as the council began to debate her nomination.

"I do not want her going. I have lost too many of her family," Aragorn mumbled.

Goldor barked in warning, urging her to control herself before she exploded. She did not heed him however. "How can you say that? Calithil died for you and Arwen! And she died heartbroken over you! My father was sent away to Mirkwood on your orders! Feredir and I were placed in the Shire on your suggestion! Do not tell me you have lost too many from my family!"

Aragorn stood swiftly, grasping her shoulders to still her before she launched herself at him. "Do you really blame me for all of their deaths? Do you?" She shook her head in anger and defeat. She could never blame him. Not even if he was to blame. "Again, I do not want you to go." He released her and sat down again.

Gandalf was the next to speak. "Not to usurp you, Aragorn, but I agree with Lord Elrond. If we are to do any of what he asks of us, I wish to send the most skilled people out to do such a deed. If the Lady Coran is indeed as talented in the healing arts as Lord Elrond has mentioned before, I say we should let her go." He straightened in his chair as Aragorn's eyes descended upon him. "Are you frightened for her safety? I understand fully, but there are ways to provide the most protection."

"Yes, we can send an able bodied warrior to accompany her if need be. Telthedir has already offered his services. I'm sure it would be no trouble," Elrond conceded. "What say you, council? Are we agreed?" All but Aragorn agreed. "Aragorn, I will not send her if you do not approve. I need total approval of the council."

Aragorn sighed heavily, giving in. "She will not go until she has been properly trained in the way of the sword. And she will be accompanied by a warrior. Only on those terms do I accept her as a member on that quest."

"Understood. My Lady Coran, you are to attend to this quest." Elrond gave her a little wink that went unnoticed by all. "Now to the next member: Telthedir, do you accept to guide and keep her safe and do so by the rest of the party?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Any disapproval of his appointment?" There was none. "You are the protector. Now we need more healers."

"How many can we spare," was the question from Boromir. He did not seem as if he agreed with letting any aid Rohan. Since when did they help _their_ kind? They weren't even represented at this council, which means they weren't a major player in this war. Why would they send some of the most skilled healers into Rohan to combat a disease they had no knowledge of? Why would they do this when Rohan would not come when called? Gondor took care of its own, and only Gondor will see this done.

"At most two more."

"Then send one more. That should be sufficient. They may draw too much attention if their party is more than three."

Rolling her eyes, she commented, "We will draw attention anyways. Telthedir is an elf."

Whispering once more in her ear, the elf reassured her. "There are ways to fix that, my lady."

"Be that as it may, they will need another healer. And I fear that neither the humans nor the dwarves have much to offer in that area," Elrond chided. It would be another elf.

"Why not my cousin and Telthedir's sister, Minuialwen? She is the assistant Apothecary. She is trained to work these sorts of problem." Erestor gave them a crooked smile, like he had planned this from the beginning. "In addition, she is as good of a fighter, if not better than her brother."

"In that I must agree, cousin," Telthedir stated with a soft laugh.

"What say the council? Shall this apothecary's assistant be of service to this cause?"

And that was how her fate was decided, with a thunderous 'aye'. She was destined to leave as the fellowship did. They were to accompany the fellowship until it was suitable for them to break. They were to take the Gap of Rohan. It was hoped that with their crossing across the Fords of Isen, they could distract Saruman for a time. Their company, small but noticeable, would be like a thorn in Saruman's side which he could not ignore. Gandalf assumed that his superior's thirsty curiosity would be to their advantage. As soon as the wizard saw that their group was of no harm, the Fellowship would have disappeared from sight. It seemed like a sound plan, but Coran was dubious about their crossing. Would Saruman let them pass? Would he even pay them any attention? Answers would only come with time.

As she sat in the Lord Elrond's study, she contemplated these questions. However she was supposed to be paying close attention to their supplies as her and Minuialwen were deciding what to bring. The elf woman was very beautiful, much like her brother. Her brown hair and blue eyes were the same and she had a similarly tall build. Her humor and mannerisms were quite different. She was much more serious in nature and her frown seemed as if it was permanently plastered to her face.

"You should listen to her. My sister gets… agitated when she's ignored, milady," Telthedir cooed from his seat next to her.

"I beg your pardon. It is getting late and I have much on my mind. Perhaps we can talk about this tomorrow. I am only human." She gave them a sweet smile to which they relented. She was sent on her way, leaving Telthedir and Minuialwen to discuss baggage and tactics.

As she made her way back to her room she passed by the Shards of Narsil. Captivated by them as the reflected the moonlight shining down on them, she came forth to admire them. Gently, she ran her fingertips over the blade. "This is what brought you victory, Forefathers? Could it be that this also hastened your demise?" She came closer, studying the runes on the hilt. "Narsil is my name, a mighty sword. Telchar made me in Nogrod."

While she was reading, she did not hear the drunken footfalls behind her. It was when he spoke she knew. "You read elvish, girl?" It was one of the men of the Council. They however were neither of Boromir's company nor of Rohirric descent. She was not sure where they came from or why they had attended. He had been one to speak out against Aragorn initially, challenging the king's right of birth.

"Yes, sir," she spoke quietly, backing away slowly.

Swiftly, he snatched her about the waist drawing her close to him. Desperately reaching out, she tried to grasp Narsil, failing as she was pulled away. "A bitch like you shouldn't know how to read. You shouldn't be going on that quest either. You should be beneath…" She fought against him, kicking and elbowing. She pulled forward and slammed her head into his nose. It made a sickening crack and he howled in pain, launching himself at her.

In the brawl, he managed to pin her to the ground, punching her face now and then. She shrieked and screamed as he assaulted her, hoping someone would come.

The one who did was unexpected. He ripped the man from her, throwing him to the ground. "Unless you want to be mauled by her dog, I recommend that you leave." The man before them scurried away, not having to be told twice.

"Thank you," she managed as she struggled to sit up. Her head felt like a mace was banging against it. When she blinked there were white lights dancing about her vision. He grasped her arm, bringing her into a standing position and leading her over to a nearby bench. She finally registered her rescuer, eyeing the tree insignia on his chest. "Thank you," she repeated.

"Why are you alone?"

"Because I am capable to take care of myself," she spat at his apparent sexism. "I'm not a frail little girl."

Chuckling Boromir said, "And that's why you fly off the handle at every bad statement? I was just asking where Telthedir and Goldor were. I know they are or will be your constant companions." He put a hand to her face, turning it so he could examine the bruises. Contrary to his belief, she did not pull away. "Are you alright?"

"I believe so. My head hurts a bit from where I hit him in the nose." She let him pull the ribbon holding her braid. His deft fingers unwove her hair slowly and gently as he worked his way up to feel the knot developing on the back of her head. Tentatively, he brushed over the spot, causing her to shiver in pain. Drawing his fingers back, she caught a glimpse of a wet substance on his fingers. She was bleeding. "My head is hurt a little more than I had first thought."

Clearing his throat, he stated absentmindedly, "I should take you to Elrond or Aragorn."

"I am a healer. I can take of it." Decisively, she stood, swaying slightly. "I think I would like you to escort me to my chambers."

"Of course," he complied, taking her by the arm. Leading her down the hall, he realized he was wrong about her. She was strong, maybe not physically or mentally, but in character and in faith. In the darkest of times, she would be a beacon of hope, consistently having faith in those around her. And in those moments, it occurred to him that she did not have to be an adept healer to heal those about her. She would just have keep their spirits up. And that was what made her such a great healer, her ability to keep moral high. And from what he had seen, she was capable of such a thing.

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A/N:

Minuialwen means Dawn

- Do you like where this is heading? Tell me your feelings about a Boromir/Coran relationship (maybe going to happen...). Sorry about the semi-filler chapter. Finally the Council of Elrond is over! Tell me about what you think about this story! What can I do to improve?

THANKS! REVIEW PLEASE! :DD


	11. Truth

A/N: Thank you all! We reached 5,000 views for this piece! It's a small step, but I am overjoyed. I cannot wait to reach 10,000!

Disclaimer: see ch 1 and 2, but in general I don't own a thing! Especially not the dialogue found in this chapter that was taken from the movies...

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Chapter 11:

Truth

*~*~*Aragorn*~*~*

"You must keep up, Coran!" the elf urged her as they raced around Imladris, trying to boost her endurance. She was not fast nor could she last long. In all of her training, she was not required to be a distance runner. And Telthedir was a slave driver. They had been training since before dawn and by the shadows, she could tell it was almost midday. "We must build your endurance!"

Goldor surged past them, barking happily as they chased after him. It was good to see that Coran was in good spirits and in good health, given the events of the days past. She would tell no one of how she received such a bruise on her cheek; it stood out, a deep purple color, right next to her eye. She said she had gotten dizzy and had fallen over, hitting her head on a bench. None of them believed it. Neither she nor Boromir would confess to the truth. Though, Coran suspected Goldor had already put two and two together after seeing the man who had attacked her with his nose bruised and broken.

As Aragorn and Elrond watched the three of them from the lord's study, they talked of tactics and possibilities. "Coran may not be able to handle this task. I fear for her."

"And what makes you say that, Estel?" Elrond was unsure why Aragorn had such little faith in this woman. Like Gandalf had once told Galadriel, who had shared the conversation with him, they found it was the small everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keep the darkness at bay, small acts of kindness and love and that breeds hope. Coran was an ordinary, insignificant person in the grand scheme of the universe, but with her help, she could aid a nation and in turn, aid the world.

Aragorn sighed, his fingers ghosting across his chin before he leant forward against the balcony, studying his cousin even more. She was frail in his eyes. Frail in body and mind, not more than a child to him. Just like Calithil had been. However, her sister seemed to muster more talent in maturity and in battle than Coran seemed to be doing. Calithil did not fly off the handle as easily nor was she as easily wounded from certain words or events. Granted, Calithil did not have to watch her husband die, nor an entire regiment of her brothers in arms die. It seemed to him Coran definitely had life worse, yet she just handled it so poorly in his eyes. She needed to move on. And because of this, he had a hard time expressing his thoughts in words. The ones he came up with felt inadequate. "She lacks experience and maturity."

Elrond seemed to understand given the vagueness of his answer. "And both of those things can be fixed. I feel that by the end of her time here she will gain both, maybe not fully but even a little seems satisfactory." Aragorn did not answer him, but continued to watch Coran run poorly about the gardens, tripping every so often. It was Elrond's next words that brought him back. "I have heard a rumor, a whisper of hope."

"What is it, my Lord?" Aragorn was anxious to hear this news. Good news would be welcomed for recently there had not been much of it.

Elrond took out a scroll and unfurled it, scanning it carefully as he said, "I have received a message from my sons, who have heard from one of your kinsmen. Halbarad is alive." The elf lord watched the ranger, trying to understand the hard expression on his face. His confusion was evident, yet he saw that Aragorn was trying to work out what he himself was thinking.

"I would have thought he perished with Feredir and the others. He was the second in command there. It does not seem right to me that they would have let him live." Halbarad was Feredir's cousin. The older man had declined to take the leadership role to train Feredir for it. He was grooming Feredir to take control of the Great East Road protection. When the Nazguls attacked they would have killed those wearing the leadership insignias first before all others, just as Coran described.

"Yet he is alive, he was escorted in this morning by my sons who had received a pigeon from him." He stopped Aragorn from storming out to go find his brother-in-arms. The man was restless to know about the attack. This was his people! "There is more, Estel. He has valuable information from the battle."

Aragorn paused in the doorway, clutching the frame as he looked back. His eyebrows furrowed as his gaze darkened. "I assume this information you speak of is not in correlation with what Coran has told us." _Has she lied yet again? _It was becoming apparent that she was drawn to not telling the truth, a characteristic that was quite unbecoming.

"You would be correct. He is not to see her and you are not to speak to her about anything concerning him. Is that understood?" The man nodded his agreement as puzzlement flooded him. Elrond slumped a little in his seat, his head coming to his hands as he whispered the grave, yet heartwarming news. It was a blessing to know, but it was a danger to the mission. "Halbarad has come to tell Coran that her husband is alive. Feredir lives, but just barely. He was taken in by Dunlandings. He had managed to make his way away from the battle and to the South, before being taken by a nomadic group. That was what he had sent Halbarad in a message. There has been no more communication. Coran is not to know. It will upset the mission." He stood, smoothing out his robes. "Now, would you like to accompany me to his rooms to find out how indeed he did escape?"

*~*~*Frodo*~*~*

"Sam, go faster!" Frodo pushed Sam as they scurried down the hallways of the Last Homely House. It was Pippin's idea to make Coran's training a game. They were playing 'Bundled Sticks'. It was Goldor who hid first. The hobbits were trying to find him and when they did, they would hide with him too, until Coran found them and the game would start all over. Coran was the last to leave the starting point and while they played this game, she was to learn basic tracking skills.

"Mr. Frodo, we must be quiet!" Sam hushed him as they slowed their pace. They eased closer to the only door in the hallway. Curious, they both listened to the conversation.

"You said that Castien was wearing Feredir's armor at the time of the assault. Why?" As they peered about the corner they could see Aragorn and Elrond interrogating another man, who wore the star of the Dúnedain, a symbol of his rank. They were all standing about a table, where the man had a map splayed out and had marked items.

"He did not have armor of his own and he was to be practicing taking damage with armor. Feredir lent him his as both of us were dealing with a bear problem on a local farm. Coran was not told of Castien's borrowing or of our hunt. We did not want to bother her while she was operating on one of our men who had an unsteady wall fall on his legs, breaking one of them. It was while she was setting the leg, we were attacked. Castien, wearing Feredir's armor which marked him as the leader, was slaughtered first, just as Coran was coming out of the healing tent. Then they slaughtered the rest of our troop. Coran ran away. I assumed she saw us as we ran back into the forest."

They watched Aragorn pace nervously and thoughtfully before the table. He stopped to say, "She did say she was not the only coward, that others ran as well."

"Yes, well, from there Feredir and I split. He went looking for Coran and I started towards Bree, hoping to catch you, Aragorn. I learned while I was in Bree that both Coran and you had departed from Bree. I also received the message from Feredir that he had been taken by a band of Dunlandings. So, then I made it here after contacting Elladan and Elrohir. That is all the information I have, I am sorry." The man awaited Elrond or Aragorn to say something. Sam and Frodo dared not to look into the room much longer and see their faces, afraid of being caught. Quickly, they stole themselves from the doorway, pressing their backs to the wall and listening hard.

It was Aragorn who spoke next. "Halbarad, as much as I know you want to tell Coran that Feredir is alive, I forbid you from telling her. She is going on a mission of dire circumstances. She does not need distraction of any kind. Do you agree to this?" Curious at his decision, Frodo snuck a glance, watching the exchange between the two men and Elrond.

"Aye, my King," Halbarad bowed his agreement. As he did so, his eyes found Frodo and he signaled to Aragorn their hiding places. The ranger looked over his shoulder; a tired and pained look crossed his features as he waved them in. They came, hoping they had not upset him too much.

"As for you, Sam and Frodo, I expect the same," Aragorn said to them, chilling them with his gaze. "You will not tell anyone. Do you understand me?" They nodded and ran from the room as he dismissed them, going to find Goldor and continue their game of Bundled Sticks.

*~*~*Goldor*~*~*

As they took a break for lunch, Goldor ate with the hobbits and Gandalf as Coran and Telthedir continued to spar, promising to come in later for lunch. The Shirefolk chatted with him playfully as if they had been friends for a very long time. Eager to learn, Bilbo asked him of Coran's family and how it was she was the cousin of the true king.

"Her grandmother, Lady Colveril, was the second wife of his grandfather, Lord Arador, who fathered Lord Arathorn II before meeting her grandmother. Her father, Lord Coran I, was the only son of Lady Colveril and Lord Arador, but because he was the son of the second wife, he barely holds legitimate claim to the throne. If Lord Aragorn does not produce children, her father would be next in line." Taking a breath before continuing, he explained more of their history. This was the part where he despaired, their fates and the fate of the World of Men rested solely on the shoulders of Aragorn. "Her father is on duty in Mirkwood and she has not heard from him since we were young, so they have assumed the worst. So as of right now, the line has died if Lord Aragorn does not produce a son, for she cannot claim the throne because she is a woman."

"And what of her duties as cousin to the king then?" Frodo asked, curious as to why her family was important in Dúnedain life.

"As the only living offspring of her father, she was charged with protecting the Ring of Barahir, a sign of Lord Aragorn's claim to the throne." He was glad Coran was not there to hear them speak of her sister. "Her sister, Lady Calithil, was the protector before her." He did not see Aragorn sneak into the room and sit in the windowsill to his right, smoking heavily on his pipe. He bode ill for the conversation.

"What happened to her sister, if I may ask?" the dark haired hobbit inquired. All eating had stopped as all of the hobbits looked to Goldor. They began to understand the heart ache that Coran was used to experiencing. They slowly were becoming aware of why she acted the way she did.

"She died." He looked down, unable to look at the sympathetic looks from the hobbits. He heard their breathy intakes at his words, his mind trying to comprehend why they were so emotionally invested in the conversation. "She was part of an escort that was protecting the Lady Arwen on her way back from Lothlórien. I am not sure how she died, but she never came back." He took a drink of the water that was laid before him, clearing his mind of dark thoughts.

Aragorn spoke, startling him. He puffed out a cloud of smoke beforehand, his eyes downcast with sorrow. Just thinking of Calithil caused him the worst of pains. Often times he had nightmares about that night, unable to shake her frightened face from his memory. "I never wanted her to know the truth, because I blame myself for Calithil's death."

"Speak then!" Goldor barked, pain and rage boiling inside him. "She deserves to know the truth after all these years. I will not be the one to tell her." Goldor kept his head down as his anger fought to control him. He was anxious to hear how her sister died. It had plagued both her and Feredir for years. It was fitting he finally learned the truth.

"When we were returning, Calithil drew me aside. She asked for a moment alone and I granted her one. We wandered too far for my liking but she assured me we needed the privacy. It was then she admitted to her forbidden feelings." He leaned against the window frame, daring to glance outside to catch a glimpse of Coran. "I took them with a heavy heart for I had already given my heart to Arwen, regardless of our family ties. I consoled her and granted her one wish. We exchanged true names.

"After our exchange, we began back to camp. It was then she spotted something. Quickly, she grabbed ahold of me and forced me to the ground, covering me with her body." It was in that moment his heart broke. She had been happy to have saved him, yet a terrified look had come across her face. Her breathy gasps of air still haunted him as he remembered as she cried with relief.

Tired of reliving the event, he continued, "She took an arrow for me. She bravely killed the scout right after. I brought her back to camp, wounded and dying. She asked for two things: to be burned and to avenge her. That night while her body smoldered, I slaughtered the whole camp of Orcs, ambushing them in the night." A grim, small smile appeared on his face as he spoke of the bloodbath. It was that night that he had let rage take him. He had closed her dead eyes, placing a kiss on both of them before gently laying her on the pyre he built. He stole his eyes away from the window to look at his hands, flexing them as he imagined her blood flowing over them. "I have her blood on my hands and I can never forget that." Aragorn stood to leave, almost dismissing them, his mind tired from thinking of her. He was emotionally drained. Too much had happened that day: Halbarad, Feredir, Calithil. His past was coming to haunt him, but the more looming, his future.

"I do not wish to talk of this anymore." He said as he extinguished his pipe and squeezed his eyes shut as he left. He needed to think on this, on her. It was Calithil who made him foolishly desire to be king. In his mind, if he accepted the role, then those like her would no longer have to die. He would be able to protect him. He knew this to be folly. He knew that he could never become king; it wasn't his place and he knew he would do no better than Isildur.

Goldor did not follow him, but he did emit a low growl. He had no words, his mood definitely worsened. It was Gandalf who brought him back to his senses. "It was good he did what he did for her."

"Aye," Bilbo agreed, a slight twinkle in his eye. "Lest she come back as an evil spirit."

"You are right," Goldor consented. "Calithil as an evil spirit would be the death of us all." He could not blame Aragorn for Calithil's death, just as he knew Coran could not. He was their King and they would not cross him. He understood that it was fate for Calithil to die. Without her death, Coran would not be the same. Then again, without Feredir's death, she would not be going to heal the people of Rohan. It was fate that allowed her to be of such use and she was not to go against it. And wherever she was going, he would follow without question. Because of this, he felt no real need to go and share Aragorn's story of Calithil. It was his to share and his alone. He would tell Coran one day, but only when the time was right.

"Come, let us go to the library. Bilbo has agreed to teach us some history," Gandalf beckoned them as he stood, towering over all of them. He had that look in his eye which compelled them to listen to him. He was a witching fellow indeed.

*~*~*Arwen*~*~*

Arwen Undómiel had left her lover to stroll through the gardens. It was one of her favorite past-times, walking them at night. She loved the way the moon's reflection glistened in the river and loved seeing the flowers in the starlight.

She felt like she needed to treat herself to this after failing at convincing Aragorn of his virtue. She had seen the interaction between him and Boromir at the Shards of Narsil. She had come to reassure him. Remembering their words, she could not help but understand that something was bothering him.

"Why do you fear the past?" She came up behind him, watching him curiously. She stopped as she said, "You are Isildur's heir, not Isildur himself. You are not bound to his fate."

She did not need to see his face to understand his feeling of guilt. A tired sigh filled the empty air. "The same blood flows in my veins." He turned to face her, his face hardened. "The same weakness," he spit, disgusted with himself.

She came to him, hurt by his self-hatred. "Your time will come. You will face the same evil. And you will defeat it." His look of doubt at her words broke her heart. Desperately trying to assure him, she whispered in Sindarin, "The Shadow does not hold sway yet. Not over you… not over me."

He turned from her without a word, leaving her in front of the memorial. She felt his grief at his words and his guilt. It pained her to see him in such a state. The last time she had seen him like this was when Calithil had died. It was different then though. His rage was unmatched and he had left deep in the night. He returned at daybreak, covered in Orc blood.

Now as she walked the gardens and contemplated his words and actions, she began to understand. She lapsed into a dream and saw the reason. When her father used his gift of foresight, she often saw bits and pieces of it. In this particular scene, she saw Coran, noticeably pregnant. A little boy, who did not particularly share her features, ran to her and called her mother, hugging her legs tightly with happiness. Behind the boy, came Aragorn and another man, who had distinct Dúnedain insignias and features. The man she did not recognize kissed Coran before the scene softly warped. In this version, Coran was seated on a wooden stool in a wooden hall. The man who held her hand possessively looked rustic and not Dúnedain or Gondorian. To her, he appeared to be Rohirric. He kissed her hand passionately.

The second of the scenes died as Elrond looked into the possibility of two prominent foresights. The last vision they shared surprised Arwen. It was a picture of Coran choosing duty or love, Rohan to her left and Feredir to her right. About the picture swirled the faces of herself, Elrond, Aragorn, a Dúnedain man, Frodo, Sam and Telthedir. As this picture faded, Arwen deduced that her decision to stay true to her vows or go after her seemingly alive husband was what was going to influence her futures. And that those faces that were shown were those who knew her husband was alive. "Interesting." She said to herself. "I should inform father on my knowledge."

Unknown to Coran, all of those about her were willing to keep the secret of Feredir living for the sake of the mission. For now, she was kept in the dark. For now, it seemed better than having her run off to go find him. For now, she was able to begin to mend her broken heart. And she could not do that if she knew he was alive. It was better this way.

* * *

Translations:

Castien - tender

Halbarad - Tall Tower

Clarifications:

Halbarad was among the rangers that guarded the Shire. He is also part of the Grey Company. For more info, LOTR wikia is for you.

As suggested by PJ's films, Arwen shares visions with her father. I will be using that interpretation.

As for 'Bundled Sticks', it would be the Hobbit version of Sardines.

A/N:

I am so sorry. I really am. From the beginning, I planned on having Feredir live. And now you know. And you know why Calithil died and about Coran's futures. Who is the mysterious Rohirric man? Time will only tell.

I am also sorry for the choppy-ness of this chapter. The viewpoint switching probably got annoying. And so did the lack of Coran, unless you hate her, then you probably enjoyed this chapter. I digress...

So, the questions I pose to you all: What do you think of this revealing chapter? What do you think those about her will do or tell her? What would you have done in this situation?

THANK YOU AND REVIEW PLEASE!


	12. A Different Wind

A/N: Sorry about the time again! I've been working my butt off, as in 40 hours a week, and then watching all of the Supernatural episodes part-time. I hope you're having a great day and if you are celebrating America's 237th birthday, then 'Murica. This chapter is dedicated to those unwavering and dedicated colonists that gave us our independence.

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Chapter 12:

A Different Wind

In the mists of the evening, Coran could find only one thing to do. And that was to read. In her weeks at Imladris she had learned so much: basics of sword fighting, archery, advanced healing, and the like. It was like her schooling all over again. Her peers were the hobbits, who needed the lessons as well. Aragorn, Telthedir, and the other members of the Fellowship all shared responsibility in teaching them. Elrond, additionally, spent many days and nights laboring with her over his medical tomes and patients. She was well-attended to when it came to education.

However, with this much attention to her studies, she felt drained and trapped. She wished to just relax a little bit. She couldn't roam the grounds as often as she used to and no longer did she take Suldal out riding, unless they were practicing archery or sword fighting on horseback. With her schedule, she would be so exhausted that she would go right to sleep as soon as she was dismissed and have to wake up the next day early to do it all again. Slowly, though, she was getting stronger, faster, better. She, from the beginning, had been able to overpower the hobbits, but now, very rarely, was able to disarm or outshoot one of her teachers.

But this busy schedule did do one positive thing: it kept her mind off Feredir for most of the day. Every day she thought of him, and prayed for him in front of Gilraen's memorial, hoping that the matron would influence his path to redemption and eternal life. She was happy, though, through the pain. Being so busy she was slowly accepting her life without him. The dancing and the singing in the Hall of Fire eased her heart and so did the friendships she formed.

Most mornings, before dawn, just as the dew was setting, she would kneel before Gilraen, the one the younger generation called the Mother. She would mutter prayers, asking for the Mother to lead Feredir to their everlasting home and to ask Eru Ilúvatar to pardon his sins. Coran fought hard for his soul and made a practice out of it. Often times, she would wake when no one else was and go and visit the grave of the Mother. And she habitually returned later in the day to beg for him once more.

It was no surprise to her at all when she saw Aragorn there, kneeling just as she did, praying for his mother's soul most mornings. As she descended down the path to Gilraen, her Chieftain would flee, hiding his face from her. Coran knew the toll his mother's death took on him. She knew he still called out for her in the sleepless nights, his heart broken from the loss. She was not wrenched from him by evil, but by the Curse of Men that only mortals shared. Tragically, she died well before her time.

Her chieftain, however, never knew why she went to his mother's memorial to pray. Unbeknownst to him, Gilraen had been her patient while Coran was still in training. It was then, she learned of her aunt and her story. There were only two people who loved her more than Coran and those were her husband and her son. Coran sobbed for days when the Mother died, taking with her a little piece of hope for the Dúnedain.

Gilraen had told her of how her son must be king. It had been her that urged Coran to ensure his position and push him to his fate. And it was Coran who held her hand as she slipped into Death's Embrace and promised her that she would do whatever it took to make him king.

As she read over the root remedies tome she held as she basked in the moonlight, Coran just remembered the feeling of knowing she could not help Gilraen as she slowly perished. She had screamed and begged Eru for mercy, to allow Gilraen to live a little bit longer, at least until Aragorn was able to come and stay by her side. She had broken down, collapsing at her bedside as the woman slept, knowing she could do nothing to stop her from dying. The day when she told Gilraen of her fate, the woman said "I have given the world hope. My own, you will give the world hope one day as well. My parents, blessed with the foresight, saw that one of my own would do as such. They foresaw Aragorn and so it will come true. Blessed be your path for Eru has smiled upon you. Do not forget this. Do not forget the Light of Hope. You must always bring hope, no matter what. I trust you to do this."

It hurt her so much to know that she would never be able to live up to Gilraen's expectation, regardless of her efforts. She tried to keep a smile and she tried to heal as many as she could. But for the life of her, she found that her ability to spread hope was lacking. She never felt like she had ever given hope to anyone ever. And it pained her to kneel before Gilraen each morning to confess to the woman that she had failed in both of her tasks set forth by the woman.

She hated to admit her actions to anyone, especially to herself, but she had been searching for eleven years for a cure for the cause of Gilraen's death. She had never told Aragorn of her findings, nor requested any information from him about their family's health. She felt that in Elrond's endless library that there must be an answer somewhere in some book. She did not wish to go to the Lord Elrond for his help as she was fearful he would tell Aragorn of her deviations. However, the time was growing short and she knew that she would maybe never have access to as many books at another time. So, in the quiet hours of the evening, she closed her book and began winding her way to Elrond's study.

She did not mind the lullabies being sung over the valley by the elves as much of nature began to sleep. As the night deepened, a wind blew across the valley, whistling through the trees. It brought the cold air, signaling the change into winter. Drawing her fur cloak about her, she shuddered against its cold breath, trying to shield her lantern from it as well.

From the gardens, Elrond's study was far into the main building, located on the highest floor. She had to cross paths with those coming back from the Hall of Fire to their beds, drunken and sober alike. She enjoyed the whispering company that crowded the halls as she ascended, holding onto the feeling that reminded her a lot of her home. There were times which she felt that the companionship and the feeling of belonging would never come to her again after she left her home for the Shire. Great the people of the Shire were, but they would never be able to show her the same love her own people could. So on late and chilly nights like these, where all hosts of races dined and drank and danced and sang together, she felt at home.

As she neared the top of the steps, those returning to bed dwindled, yet she could feel eyes on her. Each pair watched and waited, following her steps with gentle and agile movements. Right as she was about to knock and before she was able to begin waiting for her admittance into the Lord's study, one of the elves came to her, silent as the night. He pressed a cool blade against her neck, nicking the soft flesh there as he shifted slightly in stance. "Why have you come?" his flowing Sindarin came out warningly and dangerous.

"I must speak with the Lord Elrond," she whispered calmly, stilling her fears. She would not let this faze her, nor persuade her from her task.

"He is not in the mood to receive visitors. Leave." The knife pressed closer and she could feel his eyes narrowing.

She turned slightly in his grasp to look at the elf that held her. "This is of great importance. I must speak with him."

Upon seeing she would not give up, he nodded to another that hid in the shadows to go ask the Lord himself permission for her to enter. The blade never left her neck nor did his hands leave her body. They waited in silence for the elf to reemerge, awaiting the Lord's orders. Coran heaved a sigh of relief as the one that was sent came out and said, "He has granted permission, mortal."

Just as quickly as they were on her, they disappeared. Pushing the recent events from her mind, she took a step forward, gaining confidence with each step as she came inside the door. The Lord Elrond was staring at a fire, whispering in hushed tones to a hooded figure that sat in the closest chair to the hearth. As she came into the firelight, Elrond welcomed her with a nod before announcing her presence to the figure. "The Lady Coran, wife of Feredir, daughter of Coran the First and cousin to the true heir, has arrived."

As the figure stood and dropped its hood to its shoulders, Coran's heart dropped. She was not expecting this at all. Immediately, she dropped to her knees, kneeling before the person with her head bowed in respect.

"Rise, child." The person extended a hand to help her up before pulling her into a fierce hug.

Coran sank into the embrace, sighing and uttering a single word, "Mother."

"My lovely daughter, I trust I find you in good health." Taking the nod of affirmation from Coran, she continued. "I have come to pay my respects to Feredir and to the Lady Gilraen and also to speak with our Chieftain. There is something I must discuss with him." Wearily, she sat back in the chair by the fire. "I tire easily with travelling. Please forgive my need to sleep. Lord Elrond, would you mind my request to be dismissed?"

"No, my Lady Eryniel, you are dismissed. One of my own will escort you to your room." One of Elrond's guards took her mother away and then as the door shut, Elrond resumed conversation. "I am not unhappy that you are here, but why have you come to visit so late?" He offered her some of the tea that sat upon the end table to her right. She rejected it as she took the seat that her mother had just been resting in.

"I need to request permission." She took his silence as consent to carry on. "I have been obsessed with something for many a year, going on eleven years. As you may know, I was the bed nurse of the late Lady Gilraen. It is the illness that has plagued my mind for these years past. There is no known cure that I have found, but I figured that your library must have an answer."

Elrond sighed as he took a seat. It was not uncommon for her dedication to startle him. She kept reminding him of the unending drive that Mankind had. She was always searching for answers, in her studies and in life. It made him yearn for knowledge with a hungry heart just as he had in his early years. Seeing such youth in his house gave him a warm feeling and reminded him of his own children's early days as well as Aragorn's. As much as he would like to indulge her every whim, he knew that the night, especially this night, would be better spent asleep. "Coran, can this not be saved for tomorrow?"

As if she had never considered that to be a possibility, she thought for a second. "It just came to me. I apologize. I suppose we can talk about this in the morn. But, I stress, I need absolute privacy in this matter. Aragorn must not discover this." She drew her cloak about her as she readied to leave.

Elrond stood as well, taking her in his arms as he led her to the door. "You have my word. As you are here now, I will impart this onto you. With the arrival of your mother, we will have to limit your studies with many of your teachers, myself included. The meetings that will occur cannot be commandeered like the last one. These are truly meetings in which you do not belong, so I implore you, do not try to intervene. You will be stopped. Heed these words; this is of great import."

Before the door, she curtsied low. Rising, she looked him directly in his eyes, swearing an oath. "I understand, my lord. I will not intervene." From there, she took her leave and weaved her way back to her rooms.

Having her mother appear was troublesome. Lady Eryniel was the Matron of their clan at the moment, which meant she ruled with the other elected elders of their clan while Aragorn was away. The fact she was in Imladris at this time meant something more than paying her respects. It was something big. And although she had promised to stay away, one way or another she would find out what would be going on in those secret meetings. First, she would have to figure out who would be attending. Her own mother and Elrond would be completely tight lipped, but other members of the meeting may not be. She would just have to play her cards right.

As she went back to her rooms, she passed by a dimly lit room that she had not thought there were occupants living in it. She caught of glimpse of blonde hair and green clothing. Curious, she stood in the door frame, knocking. The wood elf turned, his stance tense. "Lady Coran."

"Prince Legolas, what has you so flustered this night?" He was clearly fretting; his pacing and facial twitches indicated that.

"It's nothing. Nothing a mortal can solve." He shook his head, probably ridding dark thoughts from it. At her frown, he cleared his throat, trying to be more sensitive to her mortal condition. "Many of us are meeting in the morn and the following days. It has to do a great deal with my people and with your people. It is about certain happenings in the Mirkwood and in the North." He did not think she would be staying long so he did not offer her a seat or any refreshments.

"Can I help with anything?" Not that she wasn't generally concerned and wished to help, but he could be her ticket to learn why her mother was here; this was purely motive.

"No, for I must face this problem alone. If you were not invited to these meetings, I cannot discuss this with you. Please," he turned his back to her, clearing dismissing her. "have a good sleep."

Scowling, she left, not bothering to try to persuade him to be in her favor. He was always estranged to her; well, to most people. He seemed to be good friends with her Chieftain, but when anyone other than Aragorn tried to carry a meaningful conversation with the elf, they were shut out. His behavior worried her in context with her mother's arrival.

Could this be about her father? Coran I was stationed in Mirkwood. Did they know something she didn't? Ever since her first day of training with Telthedir, she felt as if everyone was keeping a secret from her. In certain conversations, even the Hobbits would look away as to dismiss the conversation. She found that her only confidant, Goldor, had even been avoiding some topics. It grew tiring so more and more often she would not join in fellowship, but would go out and read or do something on her own.

As she prepared for bed, she found she could no longer hear the haunting elvish lullabies. Something stirred within her. Throwing her fur cloak over her shoulders again and pulling it tight against her, she wandered to her window edge. There she looked up to the moon, the wind blowing her hair from its binding. From her lips slipped the first verse of the Hymn to Elbereth Gilthoniel. It was carried on the wind, a single eerie melody.

Somewhere the harmony was picked up by another voice. It was her mother. Soon the valley was filled with the voices of Dúnedain and elves alike. She knew not that most beings were still awake that night and it was her voice they were listening to. She even dared to wonder if they knew it was her who sang. Soon, she was lost in the myriad of voices, just like she was lost to so many secrets. Long after she started the song lingered, never diming. She fell asleep to the music, exhausted by her own thoughts.

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Eryniel means "Daughter of the Woods"

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this!

Announcer voice: "Why has Coran's mother suddenly appeared? What are they hiding from her? Will she ever learn the cure for Gilraen's illness? Find out, next time on Dragon Ball- I mean, Wind From the North!"

Please review!

~PlaguedPorcelain


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